


Breathe Into Me

by cyberkogane



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Blood and Gore, Complicated Emotions, Falling In Love, Galra Oc - Freeform, Happy Ending, Jealousy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining Keith (Voltron), Rating May Change, Slow Burn, emotionally torn/distressed lance, keith realizing his feelings, lance has a galra boyfriend bc why not, love triangle because i can, oblivious lance, on their way to earth, takes place after season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2019-06-08 03:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 14
Words: 52,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15234423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cyberkogane/pseuds/cyberkogane
Summary: Keith thinks he can now handle most things that come his way: evil aliens, exploding warships, his own sharp teeth and space wolves. But then something new happens, something he never expected but should have anyway.Lance is in a relationship.And for some reason, Keith is distraught that the recipient of the blue paladin's affections aren't for, well,him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have two playlists for this fic if you're like me and enjoy listening to music while you read :) I update them every few days! 
> 
> Instrumental version: [Here](https://open.spotify.com/user/h95ttixcz3rzz8u6ywiudolf1/playlist/16LNM7xzkN3eCRpNNxvXyS)
> 
> Lyrical version: [Here](https://open.spotify.com/user/h95ttixcz3rzz8u6ywiudolf1/playlist/0RlEVzT6IZe9RB1f0DRc9O)

 

* * *

 

 

 _“Love, like everything else in life, should be a discovery, an adventure, and like most adventures, you don’t know you’re having one until you’re right in the middle of it."_  
  
_-E.A. Bucchianeri_

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

In space, you never really know what to expect.

Blasting through enemy ships, wormholes spinning you to unknown places, giant robotic sentient lions- all of these things Keith never thought he could get used to until he did. One day you go to sleep wondering if any of it is real and the next? The next you wake up _knowing_ it is, understanding that this is your life now and there's no going back.

Even after Lotor had been trapped within the Quintessence field, Keith thought that nothing would surprise him again. He'd seen it all, hadn't he?

After they decided to take off for Earth, it became alarmingly apparent that getting there would take time. And though each paladin loves spending time with their lions, housing several other people proved to be rather difficult. They became cranky, searching for room and privacy and finding none. So, the paladin's had been sent by Allura to search for any large hunk of junk capable of housing not only them, but all five lions. It took weeks but eventually, _finally_ , they did it. It was infinitely better than the cramped spaces of their piloting cabins and Keith, while knowing not to get too attached to any kind of ship now, welcomed his new bed with open arms.

But waking to it is a totally different story. Where once his walls glowed a dim blue, sterility following his footsteps, this ship is the epitome of thrown together. Gargantuan, sure. But where the Castle Ship had walls of sterling and white, this is simply mucky metal. Silver but darker, looking worn and unsure.

Keith sighs and runs a hand down his face, feeling ages older and all the more exhausted. He winces at the groan of the ship when he splashes some stale water on his face, pushing his hair back with a sharp tug. It's longer now and he thinks that maybe, eventually, he should _probably_ get it cut.

He brushes his teeth and goes about his normal routine, always one to finish long before the others.

When he steps into the hallway, he's immediately met with the pulsing glow of a ruddy orange. Bulbs hang in strange patterns but he's long since given up trying to figure them out; all he cares about is that they continue to shine.

With a yawn, he shuffles his way into the main cabin and makes a beeline for the kitchen, already smelling one of Hunk's delicious creations. It's heavy but sweet, like apples or something citric.

It makes his stomach rumble.

"Yo." Pidge says the moment Keith walks in, her head bowed over a clunky piece of tech.

Keith grunts and looks for the source of the smell, wanting nothing more than to eat and get to work. While this ship has no training deck, it at least has a room filled with gear that they picked up from multiple space malls. Something resembling a punching bag is his favorite and he flexes his fingers, already feeling the tension falling away with each hit.

"Hungry?" Hunk asks and turns around with a tray in his hands, the food sending wafts of heaven to Keith's nose.

"Always." Keith sits and reaches for one of the strange buns, uncaring of the heat that finds his fingers.

He shoves it in his mouth and chews fast, eyes finally growing used to the slightly brighter lights in the kitchen. It's dated but works just as good if all of the cooking has anything to say about it.

"New recipe." Hunk takes another tray from behind him and slides it on the counter, watching as Pidge tries to find one without looking away from her tech, "Basically threw in some of the weird fruit we found at the space mall a few days ago and Coran showed me the alien equivalent of bread and _bam_. Sweet fruity alien buns."

"Delicious, Hunk." And Keith means it.

Hunk lets out a rumbling laugh and urges Keith to take another, which he happily does.

And it's just when he's shoved the entire thing into his mouth, making both of his cheeks puff out, that he hears the voices coming from the main cabin.

He hears Allura, elegant and light; Coran following soon after. He's barks a laugh and Shiro's soft voice follows, the sound making Keith's chest tighten. Now that Shiro is back, Keith takes in the timbre of his words and holds it close.

"...so I said, why the hell not?!" Lance practically shouts, voice drifting closer and closer, until Keith is turning to take him in.

He'd been gone for several days but Keith was clueless as to where he went and the unknowing refused to sit peacefully within him. He needs to know, desperately, that all of his friends are never too far from him. That he could always be there if they needed help.

At the sight of Lance, unscathed and smiling, Keith's shoulders relax. He takes to chewing again and doesn't even care that he'll be mocked within minutes of Lance spotting his puffed cheeks. But, surprisingly, the blue paladin simply looks at him and raises a lone sharp brow.

And then he looks away.

Keith glances at Pidge but she shrugs, just as clueless.

It's only when Lance steps to the side that Keith can't help but choke. Just a bit, from a piece of bun stuck on the roof of his mouth, before turning to Hunk for something to drink. He grasps the juice and chugs, urging himself to breathe.

For him to not cough his lungs out.

"So, yeah. Thanks for letting me pick him up, Allura." Lance finishes up, "This is Thraine, our newest guest."

"A...guest." Shiro questions, cautious but still rather curious.

Keith turns to take the Galran in, eyeing him from top to bottom. He's tall, which is definitely not surprising. And Keith doesn't really care to study the long tail trailing behind him, nor the sharp plains of his face.

What has caught his attention is the suit.

A Blade member.

Standing, Keith expects the visitor is here for him. Allura hasn't mentioned anyone from the alliance needing audience with her nor has Kolivan contacted them with news of battle. Why else would the guy be here?

"Yup." Lance grins and places his hands on his hips, nodding at Shiro with enthusiasm, "He's a friend."

"Wait." Keith finally speaks up and clears his throat, _"Friend?"_

"Uh, yeah." Lance speaks as if Keith were hard of hearing, "Friend. You know, someone you talk to and hang out with-"

"But he's a Blade." Keith furrows his brow, "How do you even know each other?"

"If I may." The Blade finally speaks up, his voice surprisingly soft compared to the sharp claws on his fingers, "We met during my drills with the team, during planet-fall many quintents ago. The red lion had released my squad into the air."

"And we got to talking," Lance looks strangely proud, "and next thing you know, we're keeping up with each other via _space_ phone." 

He holds up the rectangular device that Allura had given each of them after they'd first arrived at the Castle of Lions. Thinking back now, however, Keith isn't very sure where his even _is_. Keith glowers, thoughts starting to run several miles a minute.

Allura claps her hands and smiles, trying to diffuse the situation before it can blow up to be something more. She no doubt sees the look in Keith's eye, the distrust and confusion. Which, almost always, leads to miscommunication and confrontation.

"We are pleased to have you aboard." She looks to the rest of the team, "Thraine will be journeying with us to lay the first Marmoran base on Earth. Exciting, yes?"

For a long while, there is silence. Lance looks at them and as the silence grows, his eager introductions fall flat.

"Cool." Hunk eyes his best friend and picks up a tray, finally coming to the rescue, "I bet you're hungry, huh? I finished these several ticks ago!"

Thraine bows his head and finally pushes his hood away from his face, revealing rather tall ears. They flick back and he takes a bun, large eyes growing bright at the taste.

Hunk beams and Lance leads Thraine to the counter, pulling a seat for him as if he were some delegate from an important planet. Keith bawks, eyebrows raised to his hairline, mouth agape.

And as Lance pushes the tray closer to them both, Keith can only think one thing. 

What the  _fuck?_

 

 

★

 

During his training and missions with the Blade, Keith learned that they are allowed to care but _never_ to risk failure. You leave your friends, you leave those who mean the most to you and you finish what you start.

He'd been around countless members and saw them come and go with the sway of death, faces an ever changing array. Furred and scaled, smooth as satin and hard as rock. But Thraine is contradicting all that Keith knew of Marmoran life.

Where his tail is close to reptilian, his hair and ears are like that of Keith's own mother, almost catlike. And though he holds his body in trained solidarity, his face is full of emotion.

It confuses Keith. Makes him stare and study, eyes taking in the interactions with nothing short of suspicion. He's immediately brought back to Lotor's face, full of smiles and promises- all a lie.

"Scowl any harder and your face will get stuck." Pidge snickers, chewing on some weird paste she snatched from the last stop at a space mall.

"Whatever." Keith sighs and tears his eyes away from Thraine, instead choosing to focus on the others.

Shiro is reserved but finally out of his room, hair grown shaggy enough to hang well across his forehead. He smiles at something Allura says but doesn't add anything to the conversation.

"Did ya' know him?" Pidge nods toward Thraine, "You know. While you went all assassin rouge on us?"

Keith scoffs, "Nah."

"Wonder why Kolivan didn't just come himself." She leans back on the couch and stretches her arms, cracking her joints.

Shrugging, Keith looks back to Thraine, "Probably leading some missions toward Haggar. Holding them off until we can come back."

"Maybe."

"Why?" Keith furrows his brows, "Somethin' feel off to you?"

"Not really." Pidge hums, "But Lance is being kinda weird."

Keith finally looks to the blue paladin, noticing the way his cheeks seem just a tad pinker than usual. His eyes are wide, taking in the story Thraine is spouting about some mission and the frozen planet he'd been stuck on. Lance nods his head and shifts closer, folded knees practically rubbing against the Marmoran's long thigh.

"He's always like that." Keith counters, "Probably two seconds away from flirting-"

Lance laughs but it isn't forced. It's not for show and Keith is shocked than he can tell, the small snort that follows ridiculous and dorky but fully  _him._

Keith wipes the small smile from his own face at the noise and looks back to Pidge, ignoring the way she studies him.

"Anyway," She sighs and chews some more, rolling her eyes behind the round glasses sitting on her nose, "I'm gonna go find Matt soon. Get him to help me connect the core system to the flux. Think your mom will be up to lifting me into the inner consoles?"

Keith shrugs again, pretending he understood even a word of what she said.

She stands and jumps over the back of the couch, giving a small salute to the others before leaving through the doorway behind them. Lance looks away from Thraine for a moment, face flushed, but doesn't call out a goodbye.

His eyes slide over Keith once but they soon land on Thraine again, enthralled.

It makes Keith tense, his scowl returning in record time. But he doesn't leave and he doesn't speak, instead intent on sinking into the couch and letting this conversation pass. The more he learns about the Marmoran, the better. 

 

 

 

★

  
Beating a hard bag to a pulp is only partially what Keith intended to do. He wanted to clear his head, just as he does every morning, and he wanted to keep his muscles tough.

Normal.

But his punches are a tad too hard and before he knows it, his knuckles have become bloodied. Letting out a pained hiss, he lowers his arms and watches as drops of blood drip to the floor, trying to slow his breathing in small increments. There's no real reason to his frustration. He was a Blade but now he's back, safe and welcomed by his family. Red had been all too happy to see him and though he enjoys co-piloting Black, he finds himself drawn to the red lion more often than not.

After he pushes the bag into the crevice in the wall, he runs the back of his hand across his sweaty forehead and knows that now is one of those times.

With hurried steps he makes his way to the Hangar and feels his tense shoulders settle when the doors slide open. It's dark inside but that's never a problem, the lions so huge he can easily tell them apart. He makes it halfway before he hears the voices, whispers traveling between the hunks of metal littering the floor.

Keith ducks and slides his back against Green, hoping the lion won't mind.

The whispers are rushed and sharp and Keith can't tell if someone is fighting or, more likely, _sneaking_. His mind immediately turns to infiltration, the Blade member seeming more and more like a hidden threat than a guest by the minute. Keith doesn't have his bayard nor his own knife but that won't stop him, not for a second.

He rounds Green's leg and clenches his fists, more than ready to put an end to whatever's happening before it can even begin.

What he doesn't expect is to see Lance.

And, furthermore, _Thraine_.

They're close and though Keith has never been one to enjoy close personal contact himself, even he can tell that their proximity is enough to hold a semblance of something more than simple acquaintances.

 _Friend_. Lance's voice echoes and Keith suddenly feels foolish; utterly ridiculous.

Of all of them, of course Lance would make friends with the Marmoran.

Keith begins to turn away, cheeks heating with some form of embarrassment but Lance's soft laugh makes him glance back. And the hand on Lance's shoulder, clawed and large but ultimately gentle, leaves something twisting in his stomach.

With a huff, Keith goes retraces the way he came and doesn't bother turning back.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a playlist for this fic full of songs that I listen to when I write it. I update it every now and then. You can find it [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/h95ttixcz3rzz8u6ywiudolf1/playlist/0RlEVzT6IZe9RB1f0DRc9O)
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes!

 

* * *

 

 

 _"I am glad it cannot happen twice, the fever of first love. For it is a fever, and a burden, too-”_  
_― Daphne du Maurier_

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Lance is a romantic.

He won't deny it and he really likes to embrace it; flowers, cheesy music, waxing poetic. The whole shebang. He'd stare at boys and girls and act like they were practically the sun itself, watching them come and go with overly wistful expressions. And though he'd only really dated two people throughout his adolescence, now he can't help but think that it all makes sense.

 _You have a soft heart, Lance_. His mom whispered to him after his first breakup, wiping at his tears and running a hand through his shaggy hair, _Never lose it. Someone will love you one day. Give it time._

Time.

What a wacky thing that is. Even now, in space, it twists and turns and keeps him on his toes. It became apparent that, with a drowning heart, he might never find someone out here. War doesn't wait for feelings to bloom nor does it allow space for the romantic ideations always running wild within Lance's head.

He had to grow up fast, just like the rest of them. He matured in ways he didn't know he could and found innocence within himself that he swore would be lost. His feelings for Allura blazed like an inferno before dying away, being put out by the evil prince and the destruction of their home. And the major crush he had on a certain red paladin, well, that seems to be fizzling just as fast.

People weren't worried about finding someone, not like Lance was. Even if he could put it all aside and do his job, afterwords he didn't want to shower alone and sleep alone and go about life alone. He needs touch and company, always has.

But through it all, through the most recent stretch of this dangerous adventure, there was someone who didn't think Lance's constant lovesick rants were ridiculous. They laughed at his wild complaints and held no contempt for his flushed face, imagination running wild when he saw new creatures or planets.

Thraine was completely unexpected.

Whereas the rest of the Paladin's are a stable home to return to, something familiar and secure, the Marmoran offered Lance something new. Something different.

He grasped onto the companionship when it was offered and so far, he hasn't let go.

 

★

 

**Several Human Months Ago**

 

Lance drums his fingers on the console of Red, watching the passing of the rough planet below with tired eyes. He'd barely slept the night before and he regrets it immensely, but there's nothing he can do about it now. Now, he just has to deal with it.

"Forty ticks to planet-fall." He calls back to the Blade members, their response rather quiet.

He wonders if they feel glad when they fall. If these drills have become as familiar to them as flying robot lions has to Lance.

He glances at the closest member beside him, noticing the crest of a commander resting on his arm.

"Do you like it?" Lance asks before he can stop himself.

The Marmoran turns to him, mask glowing, keeping Lance from seeing if his question posed any form of reaction.

Lance raises a brow, "Well? Do you like falling?"

"Yes."

 _"Okay,"_ Lance drawls the word, "wanna tell me why?"

It's silent before the Marmoran turns around, watching the console flash with the beginning of the countdown to thirty ticks.

"It's quiet." He glances at Lance, "There's only the rush of wind."

"I guess that sounds pretty nice." Lance nods, "I'd probably keep talking though, you know. I like voices, noise. Keeps me from getting stuck in my head."

"Do you ever freefall?" The Marmoran asks, "From your lion?"

"Nah." Lance scoffs, "Don't have time for that."

"You should try it one day.

"Yeah?" Lance looks at him, finding the conversation not as stale as he assumed it would be.

If anything, the Marmoran seems eager to talk to him too.

"Yes." The Marmoran nods, just once.

"Well, I will then." Lance calls back the fifteen tick count before saying, "I'm Lance, by the way."

"I know. You're the blue paladin."

Lance nods, "You got a name?"

"Thraine."

Grinning, Lance turns in his chair and holds out a hand, urging him to take it. Thraine's hand is large and clawed beneath his glove but Lance doesn't care. He finds it endearing, almost awesome that he can literally shake hands with aliens.

"Cool." Lance smiles wider and lets their hands touch just a bit longer before he pulls away.

And then the metal behind him is groaning and the Blade's are falling fast, one after another until they hit the ground and roll.

Thraine takes a moment, watching as his squad files out. And then he turns back to Lance and bows his head, just a bit, in that respectful way that most Marmoran's do.

"I hope we can talk again."

And then he's gone.

 

★

 

Lance smiles at the memory and practically runs down the corridors of the makeshift castle ship. He's missed almost all of todays training but he doesn't care, not when he's still full of energy from his visit with Thraine in the Hangar. He enjoys the solitude of their meetings, enjoys the attention he gets from Thraine and Thraine alone.

Taking another corner, Lance pulls to a stop with a small squeak of a noise, inches away from running into a hard chest.

Keith raises a brow and takes a quick step back, face flushed from training.

"You're really late."

Lance scowls but otherwise keeps his voice tame, "I know-"

"Shiro's still in there if you want him to spar with you." He glances at Lance's ruffled hair but doesn't comment, "You should probably get an hour or two in."

"I _know_ , Keith." Lance sighs and straightens himself, "I just lost track of time."

"Obviously."

Before, Lance would snap. Before all of the battles and Keith's time as leader, Lance would be quick to bicker nonstop, getting rougher and louder until Shiro or Hunk had to pull them apart.

Now, Lance just pushes past him, ignoring the tiny thrill he gets when their shoulders brush.

 _That's over,_ he reminds himself, _no more crushing on Keith._

"Do you," Keith clears his throat before calling out again, "do you want me to come too? Spar a bit?"

Lance glances back at him and shrugs, "If you want."

It's not like they haven't done it countless times before. Lance knows he's not too great at close-hand combat but he's not terrible either. Though, he also knows he'd last longer against Keith than he would Shiro. He turns back to tell Keith to hurry but the hall is empty, no trace of the other boy to be found. Lance furrows his brow but doesn't stick around to pout. He runs through the doors to the training deck and takes a big whiff of the air, nose immediately scrunching at the smell of stale oxygen and sweat.

"Finally!" Pidge shouts from her spot on the ground, skin damp and flushed.

"Sorry, sorry." Lance immediately walks to the small station on the opposite wall and reaches for the bandages, "I got distracted."

"Well, now you'll be in here even longer." Pidge groans before standing, slugging back a full bottle of filtered water, "All by yourself."

Lance shrugs and wraps the bandages around his hands, taking care to cover his knuckles, "Whatever, gremlin."

She snorts a laugh and walks away, the slide of the door the only sound before it all falls to silence. Looking around, Lance is surprised that Shiro isn't here after all. He'd no doubt slipped away the second Keith was done, back to his room or the small observation deck near the loading bay. It's become a habit of his, Lance has noticed, to remain on the outskirts of most things. Sure, he says he's ready if there's an unexpected attack on the ship. But Lance has always been good at reading people, at sensing someone's emotions and rolling with it.

More than anything, Lance just wants Shiro to take his time. To realize that the team isn't going anywhere, that he can rest and enjoy being _alive_.

Lance sighs and bends to grab the headphones he'd left here yesterday, a smile erupting on his face when he finds them.

They're old and a bit clunky, but they'll do just fine. He plugs them into his small MP3, courtesy of Hunk, and lets the music filter into his ears. The song is soft, definitely not training material, but Lance doesn't care enough to change it.

He starts to hum along, eyeing the punching bag hanging limply closest to him. It's round and a bit different than those on earth but he supposes they get the job done. When he isn't shooting with his old bayard or slicing at flying disks, he's letting his hands fall where they may.

It's kind of weird punching at something that can't fight back yet he goes about it anyway, music loud enough to block out the soft whaps of his knuckles onto the bag. His breath starts to huff in no time and the song changes pace, picking up speed before trailing into another. Sweat beads on his forehead but he doesn't bother wiping at it, glad to feel the strain in his muscles; the way they flex before relaxing in a steady rhythm.

He'd never admit it but he can see why Keith finds this so relaxing. Sure, it's full of high activity and energy, some of which he'd rather put into drawing or reading or literally _anything_ else. But he's grown so used to the fight, to war and sharp pain, that this controlled environment feels rather good. It's easy to focus, to let out his frustrations or the nonstop jitters of his nerves before giving out completely.

Suddenly, just as he's about to pull back into another swing, a pair of thick arms circle around his waist. He jumps but recognizes the hold almost immediately, a small smile lighting up his damp face.

In the beginning, Lance had to be the first to initiate touch. Thraine wasn't used to it, seemed to be starved from it and always totally unsure. Lance took it in stride, sending gentle touches his way before gaining the trust to throw himself into the Marmoran's arms for well deserved hugs.

"You just saw me, you know." Lance laughs and leans back into the broad chest, more than happy to feel Thraine's long tail wrap around his calf, "Couldn't wait for dinner?"

Thraine sounds amused, "I suppose not."

The words send a thrill though Lance's body, one that reminds him that _yes_ , this is happening. And it's happened for weeks upon weeks yet he has to practically pinch himself to know that it's real. Because, jeez, who the hell would wanna touch him like _this?_ Even the people he'd been with in the past were more reserved, almost like they were totally uncertain about Lance altogether; almost like there was something wrong about him.

He pushes the self-depreciating thoughts away before they can spread.

Turning, he quickly travels his hands up Thraine's chest, finding hold at the back of his neck before the Marmoran slides the headphone's from Lance's ears. Thraine's features are sharp, almost feline and shadowed in the harsh light of the training deck. Lance lets his eyes travel the expanse of his face, the scar digging deep into his jaw, the way his long ears flick forward with interest. Not for the first time, Lance revels at the color of his eyes. Large as they are, they're darkest around the edges before giving way to a soft red, like the flash of color when a camera takes a picture of a bunny in the dark.

He snickers, bowing his head to hide. But Thraine makes a soft noise, one that is full of confusion, making Lance look back up in haste.

"It's just," He smirks, "you kinda look like a rabbit. Did I ever tell you that?"

"Rabbit?" Thraine questions, pronouncing it completely wrong.

Lance nods, "These little creatures on my planet, soft and fuzzy with huge ears. We fed them carrots and stuff."

"I have no idea what you're speaking of."

This just makes Lance laugh harder and he debates finding Pidge to ask her to run a simulation and find a picture of the animal. But then Thraine is smiling and his sharp teeth peak from his mouth, something that maybe would have frightened Lance a year ago.

But now?

Now he actually likes them.

 _Maybe a bit too much_ , he thinks, bringing Thraine's face closer to his own with a push of his hand on the back of his neck.

They rarely kiss but Lance doesn't think that's really a bad thing. It's just something that comes and goes when the times arrive. They're chaste little acts and he cherishes them, always more than eager to let it happen.

But before their lips touch, his eyes are drawn to the door across the room, the slide soft compared to the music still playing at his shoulders and Thraine's low purr. Lance freezes, eyebrows shooting toward his hairline.

Keith clutches a water pouch in his hand, mouth hanging a bit in shock.

And then he's turning away, back through the door with a face full of contradictions.

And Lance, well, he feels something sharp twist deep in his gut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments, they make me excited to continue this story. I may or may not keep Lance's POV's, not sure yet. I kinda like his POV on things though :) Keep in mind, this is a slow burn. 
> 
> This fic is planned to be pretty long, so I hope you continue to enjoy it! ** They will be making it to earth btw :) **
> 
> Come hang out with me on tumblr: [starshinebf](https://starshinebf.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

 

* * *

 

 

_"He smiled, and his face was like the sun.”_  
  
_― Madeline Miller_

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Keith's never been very in tune with his own emotions.

That's _not_ to say that he doesn't feel any, even if that's what most would crudely assume. He just can't place them, can't recognize them very easily; can't understand _why_ he's feeling a certain way. He laughs if something is funny, feels his chest twist with thoughts of Shiro or his mom, clenches his fists when he's angry so that he won't lash out. His _reactions_ to his emotions are easier for him to deal with rather than the damn emotions themselves.

For a long time, he thought that maybe something was wrong with him. Maybe something was literally broken in his brain; that could be a possibility, right? Surely others didn't lash out at those who just wanted to be their friend, didn't panic and ruin relationships just because they assumed someone would eventually leave. His brain, as far as he was concerned, didn't have a destination. It runs and runs and runs, away from things that could cloud his judgement or pick at his walls or make him feel vulnerable in the slightest.

But even he can't deny that those walls he'd built simply held back a flood. A flood of emotions that had been stunted when his mom left orbit, when his dad died and he was left to the foster system. A flood that had always been there, just buried deep, the feelings almost overwhelming in their strength.

Now, all he can do is feel.

Staring at his mom, Keith lets his shoulders drop a bit from their usual tense position. Krolia is petting Kosmo, the space wolf that Keith somehow managed to befriend. She runs her purple hands through Kosmo's fur and Keith recalls the lonesome nights she would do the same to him, a touch that he'd always longed for but could never get. His foster mother's had tried to show him affection but it just wasn't good enough.

They weren't his mom.

"Are you just going to stand there or are you going to come help me?" Krolia finally looks up at him, "This is your wolf, he's your responsibility."

Keith huffs and pushes away from the wall, wishing the wolf's fur wasn't so unruly, "We need to get him a brush or something."

"Yes." Krolia takes her hand away and pats the ground beside her, "It would probably help."

"Definitely." Keith takes a seat and immediately gets to work, fingers trying to be gentle but it's almost impossible.

Kosmo's tail swishes when Keith scratches behind his ears, a fond rumble rising from his throat. But to get these knots out, he has to tug. He mumbles an apology before running his fingers through, pulling up and out until something gives. Kosmo turns to look at him, almost seeming to glare before letting his head plop back to the ground.

"This isn't as bad as I thought it would be." Keith comments, "Usually his fur's matted the worst underneath his arms."

"It appears we've had some help." Krolia leans back and pulls at her pistol, already getting to work cleaning it, "Kosmo's warmed up to Lance and Hunk, from what I've seen. Caught them just last night in the kitchen."

"Yeah? Is that where Kosmo keeps teleporting off to?"

She hums and nods, leaning against the couch in the main cabin, "Hunk was making some sort of drink, something bright and quite tasty. Lance asked me if it was alright to help with the fur but he was already cooing to Kosmo, treating him like a cub."

Keith feel his stomach flutter at the thought, "You're spoiled, aren't you?"

He gets no response from the wolf but Keith knows he heard. His ears twitch, just an inch, before relaxing again.

"Have you worked on your aim?" Krolia changes the subject, using a soft cloth to wipe at the interior of her pistol.

"Some."

"Some?" She looks up at Keith and raises a brow, "What's some?"

"I mean my aim isn't terrible. Not as good as throwing a blade but it's not bad."

"Could be better though, yes?"

Keith knows she means well. She doesn't push too hard but she still urges him to practice, to work and strengthen and train. He knows that she simply wants him to be ready for an attack, to make sure his skills aren't blunted from their rather uneventful voyage.

"Yeah." Keith sighs, "I'll keep trying."

She smiles, "Good."

Keith leans closer to Kosmo and works through a knot, feeling the course fur slide against his fingertips. It's a slow process but one that he kind of enjoys, simply because it keeps him busy.

Simply because it keeps him distracted.

 

★

 

"It just feels...weird."

Allura nods, agreeing with Pidge in silence. Everyone is gathered, surrounding a console in the main deck; a large piece of junk that relays just enough of the universe to keep the coordinates in place. Pidge and Hunk have managed to upgrade a few things in the core of the tech but it's still tough, so much so that even Keith can see the glitches and lost coordinates.

He stands beside Shiro, head tilted a bit to watch the hologram shift and turn. Planets whiz past their heads, entire galaxies floating in the expanse of infinity.

They've been in space for years and it still makes all of them feel pretty small.

"Yeah, when's the last time we went so many days without something really shitting happening?" Hunk questions, glancing at Romelle as if she'd know, "When are we gonna get attacked?"

"Unanswerable question." Pidge flicks a button and the hologram changes, showing their course through the current galaxy, "I suspect it will be random. A chance encounter."

"Well how much longer are you thinking?" Lance asks, speaking up from his spot on the opposite side, "Earth can't be _that_ far, right?"

"We've only just made it to the Lumosixus Galaxy," Coran points out, "without a wormhole we're going to be traveling for phoebs and phoebs. This ship may be fast but it's still susceptible to malfunction and fuel and asteroid belts-"

"But that's like, just a few months, right?" Lance sounds desperate. A moment away from a total freak-out.

"We'll get there when we get there." Keith says, finally looking away from the hologram, "We just need to focus on other things-"

"Other things?" Lance raises a sharp brow, "Like what? It's not like we've picked up any distress signals. There hasn't been a single fight for us to join."

Thraine nods, "My communications with Kolivan tell me that they've taken down several Galran bases but the civil war is isolated. Kept contained within certain quadrants of the twin Privien systems."

"But there _could_ be a fight for us soon." Hunk glances at Krolia, "Right?"

She nods, "It is a possibility."

Lance groans and throws back his head, leaning into Thraine.

Keith tears his eyes away, trying to forget the scene he'd walked in on only two days ago. It's fresh in his mind and it won't go away no matter how much he tries to distract himself. He sees Lance's flushed face, his arms holding tight to Thraine, the way his eyes had fluttered shut before coming to stare straight at Keith. He recalls the way his own breath hitched, panic and distaste making his jaw clench.

"Fantastic." Lance sighs and Keith looks back at him, eyes settling on the expanse of his stretched neck.

The hologram displays a blue light, the color casting undulating shadows around the entire room. It passes over Lance's brown skin like water, sliding against his jaw and down toward his collarbones-

Shiro bumps into him, forcing Keith to refocus. He wills the heat on his cheeks to fade before bumping Shiro back, finding comfort in the weight of him. He's solid and stable. Real.

"We should be prepared for anything," Allura sighs and runs a hand down her face, "though I won't deny that the anticipation is quite terrible."

"Yeah." Matt pushes a handful of crispy alien chips into his mouth, "Totally wack."

Pidge slaps at his hand and the chips are sent flying across the floor, effectively ending any form of serious conversation that could have started. They start to bicker but it's not angry, instead playful and goofy as if they were both trying to lighten the mood. Since they managed to pick up the other Holt sibling on a rebel occupied moon, they've been distracting themselves in anyway they know how. Tech building, coding, eating copious amounts of space junk food-

"Well now that we know the state of our infinite travel and probable doom, is this meeting considered over?" Hunk pipes up, "Can I get back to work now?"

"Go ahead." Allura watches him leave, heading back to the Hangar and his tools, "The rest of you should do what you can to keep yourselves busy. We'll stop at the next civilized planet and find some new ingredients for meals. Maybe wander a bit...have some fun?"

Lance suddenly perks right up, "I'm still searching for the space equivalent of pizza. And before our trip is over I _will_ find it."

With an amused roll of his eyes, Keith turns to follow behind Shiro until they're walking side by side through the halls. The lights are the same orange glow as always but now, at what they consider mid-afternoon, it's especially depressing.

"So," Shiro glances at Keith with a smile, "anything you need to talk about?"

"Huh?"

He smiles a bit wider, "Anything, you know, _personal?_ "

Keith stops and furrows his brows, "The fuck are you talking about?"

"I know you, Keith." Shiro glances behind him, checking to see if anyone is following. When he's sure that they're not, he raises a muscled shoulder, "I see the way you're watching them."

"Them? Who're you-"

"C'mon." Shiro rolls his eyes, "Lance and Thraine."

Keith should've known Shiro would pick up on any possible tension there could be between any of them. Even if said tension is mostly on Keith's side, completely unexpected and strong as hell.

"I just...don't trust him."

"But Lance seems to."

Keith glares, "So? We all ended up trusting Lotor and look at how _that_ turned out."

Sighing, Shiro finally starts walking again, leading them onward, "Unlike Lotor, Thraine doesn't have an army or a clue as to where to get unlimited quintessence. Say he is some double agent, what's the worst he can do?"

"Kill someone?" Keith immediately counters, something akin to panic blooming in his chest, "Kill _Lance?_ "

Shiro tenses but continues, "And then where would he go? He's surrounded by the _Paladins_ of _Voltron_. We have only one escape pod and sentient lions. He wouldn't get far. It's pretty unlikely, Keith."

"You never know." Keith scowls.

He's always been stubborn. Shiro's used to it and Keith wishes he could stop it but that's almost impossible. Since he was old enough to understand that he was left alone in the world he's done nothing but fight and hold his ground, something that eventually planted itself into his personality.

And once he gets a thought into his head, one that hints at one of his friends somehow getting hurt? It doesn't just go away.

"Is that all?" Shiro eventually asks, leading them to the observation deck, "Nothing else bothering you?"

"Nah." Keith ignores the twinge in his chest, "Stop worrying so much, old man."

Shiro scoffs a laugh but finally stops their travel, crossing his arms in a self-preserving sort of way.

Keith mimics him without realizing it, leaning in to the heat of his body, "How've you been?"

The question is quiet. Careful. On one too many occasions Keith has tried to pry just a tad too hard. To try and get Shiro to talk to him like he used to, before Shiro's trip to Kerberos, before the bloody fights and his actual death. Once, he'd even tried to bring up Adam. 

But that conversation ended before it could really start. 

"Good." Shiro nods, "Better now that we're moving. Traveling."

Keith glances at him from his peripheral, "Yeah?"

"Yeah." Shiro tries for a smile, "Stop worrying so much, _kid._ "

Rolling his eyes, Keith pushes into his shoulder but lets the conversation fade. Silence soon settles between them but it's not strained; it's simply there. They stand in front of a large window overlooking the stars, watching as they pass at high speed. They blur in points of bright light but Keith likes them, enjoys watching them until his lids grow heavy and his muscles release most of their tension.

Eventually, Shiro decides to go back to his room. Keith watches him walk away, body sagging from a weight unseen, something that catches up to him when he no longer has the distraction of the team. For a split second, Keith debates following after him. Maybe he could keep him company even if all he could do is sit next to him, let his breathing fill up the silent air. But Shiro walks through the door a moment later, quelling all of Keith's thoughts. 

Once he's gone, Keith is alone. He takes a seat and crosses his legs, pulling at the knife on his hip, twirling it between his fingers in a familiar pattern. This observation deck isn't as large as the one on the castle ship but it's not too shitty, either. He can stare at the passing cosmos and keep himself entertained, content to watch the occasional distant galaxy rush by in murky lines. Sometimes, he can even catch the after-effects of a supernova.

It's times like these that Keith allows himself to feel sentimental. He doesn't have to worry about attacks or the constant paranoia running through his veins, always threatening to turn his decent moods to darker tones. It's just him and the infinite, a reflection of his solitude on Earth; the quiet expanse of the desert.

He sighs and looks down at his knife, glad that he managed to pull it from the building after his fight with Shiro. While he loathes looking back on the fight itself, he can at lease enjoy this. His connection to his mom and the reminder of his dad, the trials and his aid in the war effort and his personal victories. The knife is all of these things, wrapped at the hilt and sharp on the edge.

"Yo."

The voice makes him jump, head whipping up.

Lance has his hands shoved deep within his pockets, rocking on the heel of his sneakers. He looks shy, something that makes Keith swallow hard, skin prickling in a way it never has before.

He doesn't necessarily like it.

"Yeah?" He asks, quickly turning back to the stars before his reddening face can betray him.

Lance walks closer, his steps soft until he's taking a seat too, "So, what's the most awkward situation you've ever been in?"

"What?"

"Yanno," Lance shrugs and glances over at him, "you ever been in a situation that won't leave your head even though it wasn't a big deal? All you know is that it was _awkward_."

"Are you trying to hint at something?" Keith twirls his knife again, knowing this conversation was bound to take place sooner rather than his preferred later, "About what I saw in the training room?"

Lance lets out a loud breath, "Yeah. Yeah, glad you could say it first."

"It's not like I saw you killing someone, Lance. Just...hugging." Keith knows he's downplaying it but he can't bring himself to describe it any other way.

"Right. Yeah."

"So why're you making a big deal out of it?" Keith finally forces himself to look at the blue paladin, glad that he's looking straight ahead instead.

"I'm not making a big deal out of anything." He sounds defensive, "I just wanted to make sure you weren't, like, freaking out."

Keith scoffs, "Why the fuck-"

"Because what you saw was _private_." Lance snaps, turning to look at Keith again, "And you might not care about shit like that but I do, okay? I don't need someone making fun of me later, bringing it up like it's something to be embarrassed about."

It dawns on Keith in incremental seconds. The flush on Lance's cheeks is dark, eyes wide and damp, lashes sticking together. Keith wonders if he'd been picked on before, if someone had made him feel bad for liking a specific girl or maybe even a guy, the thought not sitting well with him at all.

But Keith refuses to ask.

He just slams his mouth shut and slides his eyes down to the chain that hangs around Lance's neck. It's always been there but he's mostly kept it hidden, tucked underneath his shirts and armor. Another piece of himself that he chooses to keep to himself.

"I thought you knew me better than that." Keith finally says, too much of a wuss to meet Lance's watery eyes again, "I'm not that much of an asshole."

"Didn't say you were." Lance clears his throat.

"Implied it, though."

"No, that's not-" Lance brings a hand to rub at his face, letting out a frustrated sound, "I didn't mean to imply anything. I just have a hard time showing parts of myself, of my life, that I don't _plan_ people to see."

In a way, Keith can relate. He didn't expect it but he latches onto Lance's words, finding familiarity in the explanation. He opens his mouth to say so, to say anything that could connect the two of them.

Instead, he simply nods.

"Alrighty then." Lance clears his throat again and makes to stand, sniffing a bit before turning away, "I'm glad that this new awkward conversation could uh, happen."

Before he can stop it, Keith gives a soft laugh because of _course_ Lance could turn this situation into something a tad silly.

"Yeah." Keith starts twirling his knife again, "I don't care that you're dating some alien, dude. And I never planned on giving you shit about it."

Lance snorts, "Good."

He takes a minute to leave and Keith thinks he hears him take a breath, as if he wanted to say something else. But instead he simply knocks into Keith's shoulder with his thigh and hurries away, steps fading until the deck is left to silence.

The moment it settles, Keith's smile fades.

 

★

 

"We'll dock tomorrow." Allura smiles and they all enjoy the sight, knowing how hard it's been for her to relax, "It's important to dress in the form of a civilian. That means no armor, no bayards, no jackets sporting fan-made logo's, _Lance._ "

She gives him a pointed look and he deflates, just a bit, before giving a displeased agreement. Thraine smirks and pulls him a bit closer but Keith doesn't let himself stare, doesn't let himself feed the strange churning in his gut. He simply nods and turns away, honestly pretty glad that they'll get a chance to leave this ship. It'll be good for them to see buildings and people; _anything_ other than these gray walls.

Taking a whiff, he can already smell the cooked food Hunk managed to finish before the impromptu meeting. But Keith doesn't really feel like eating with the others. He needs to be alone before going to face crowds, to gather himself and make sure his blade is sharpened, ready to settle into the sheathe on his belt. He grabs a foiled bowl and dumps a heap of food into it, hurrying like a kid who just stole cookies from a jar. His mouth waters at the thought of the baked goods but he knows it's pointless to yearn for them, hopeless to think that he'll soon sate his secret sweet-tooth.

Instead, he grabs a water pouch and practically sprints away, looking in both directions before taking to the halls. He strides all the way to his room where, finally, he can simply _be_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Poor Keith is in denial, I'd say. 
> 
> Thank you for the comments, they make me so motivated and eager to get these chapters out for all of you. 
> 
> I decided that I will be keeping Lance's POV and it will go between the two of them with each upload. I know some of you are worried about Thraine turning out to be a bad guy and I'll just say that he's definitely a flawed character, in no way one dimensional. I might give him a POV chapter as well...let me know if you think you'd enjoy that. 
> 
> Again, thank you for reading and leaving comments/kudos!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry in advance for any mistakes, this chapter is bigger than any I've written so far. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

 

_"To be running breathlessly, but not yet arrived, is itself delightful, a suspended moment of living hope."_  
  
-Anne Carson

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

The planet of Fyix is huge. Lance's eyes widen the moment they breach the clouds, the silver puffs clearing to give way to a sprawling city. Or, rather, a _kingdom_. Like something out of a storybook, Lance almost immediately spots a castle with spirals reaching toward an ever-violet sky. Colorful flags whip in the wind, large enough to be seen even from so far up in the atmosphere. Fields are spread all around, shifting in shades of gold as far as the eye can see. A flowing river, almost pink in color, leads from the city and cuts into the fields, rushing with froth. Distantly, shrouded in some kind of maroon mist, mountains rise and fall. Lance can see a winding of paths spread throughout the city, streets and specks of people, bustling life and energy and it makes him almost shake in anticipation.  
  
Of all of the paladin's, Lance has always been the most eager to meet new people. And, in this case, new _beings_.  
  
The moment they land Lance is grabbing at Hunk, urging him to hurry as they trample down the landing pad. Hunk lets out a shocked noise but tries to keep up, their steps pounding on the metallic ramp. Lance sports his simple green jacket and jeans but he's replaced his old shoes with new sneakers, the likes of which light up with each step he takes. The moment he'd seen them at the space mall he simply couldn't pass them up, going so far as to spend his last bit of stolen fountain coins on them.  
  
_What are you, five?_ Pidge had teased when she first saw the way they blinked in red and blue.  
  
But Lance doesn't care if he looks silly.  
  
"Slow down!" Hunk huffs and tugs back a bit, trying to get Lance to wait for the others, "Allura didn't even tell us when to come back-"  
  
"I have my communicator." Lance argues but stops anyway, giving Hunk a moment to catch his breath.  
  
Behind them, just a few feet away, the others are taking their time to enter the new world. They landed in one of the huge fields but Lance can already smell the fresh air, he can feel the wind and hear the rushing river. He's too excited. Too ready to pretend that, for just a moment, he's somehow on Earth. Pidge and Matt are already pointing at the golden flow of plants and Krolia watches them fondly, seeming to find an interest in the flora as well.  
  
Keith looks at him before turning to Shiro and Allura, listening to some conversation Lance can't hear. It isn't the first time Lance has caught the red paladin doing something like that and he's sure it won't be the last, considering their conversation from the night before had been something neither of them really wanted to take place. Lance grimaces and makes himself focus on the others, to keep his mind off of Keith and interrupted kisses and stupid confrontation.  
  
"Why don't you at least wait for your _boyfriend_." Hunk snickers, "You just gonna leave him to wander around? What if he gets lost?"  
  
"He's a space assassin, Hunk. I'm pretty sure he can handle himself." But Lance is looking anyway, eyes following Thraine's descent from the ramp with great interest.  
  
Thraine is wearing something Lance had picked out himself, the simple black t-shirt looking rather nice against his purple skin. His ears twitch and Lance doesn't even try to hide his grin, liking the way the whitewashed pants sit on his thighs. Their eyes meet and Lance motions him forward, eager to finally get this show on the road. Plus, he thinks it'll be nice for the three of them to spend time together; boyfriend and best friend, a good duo in Lance's head.  
  
"Ready to get dragged around at the speed of light?" Hunk asks, already exasperated before Lance even gets a chance to talk.  
  
Thraine chuckles, a low sound that sends a thrill up Lance's spine, "I believe I'll survive."  
  
"We'll see," Hunk sighs dramatically, "think the space mall was high energy? Now we get a whole _city_ to-"  
  
"Okay, okay." Lance suddenly wants to place his hand over Hunk's mouth, embarrassment settling with his nervous laugh, "We get it already."  
  
Allura calls out to them and Lance looks up to see her staring at a holo-screen, the device on her wrist displaying a layout of the entire city. They gather around and Lance tries to peak over Coran's shoulder, eager to see just how large the place is.  
  
"It seems this city has multiple layers," She runs a finger on the screen, "and it's rather confusing, even to me."  
  
"Is that a cave?" Pidge questions, eyeing a large portion beneath the castle itself, "Can we go in it?"  
  
"I'm not sure that would be wise. Though I do think it may be best that we stay in groups." She glances up at them.  
  
Shiro nods, "Good idea. We definitely don't want anyone getting lost or hurt." He looks over at Lance and Hunk, "I think Keith and I will tag along with you."   
  
The others split up and Lance watches Krolia choose to follow the Holt's, head tilting at something they say. She bends to look a strange little creature climbing onto the platform and Lance can't help but smirk, surprised that she's remaining so interested.  
  
"Okay." Allura lets out a heavy breath, "Let's meet here at sunset."  
  
Lance gives a little salute before grabbing at Hunk again, ignoring his groan.  
  
And then they're off.

 

★

 

The first thing Lance notices when they finally enter the city is that the people are _beautiful_. If not for the towering Marmoran at his side, Lance would no doubt be zooming off to talk to the closest one, eager to see if they blush or flirt or cared to show him around.  
  
Instead, he lets his fingers trail on Thraine's arm before fitting their palms together, enjoying the weight holding him in place. Thraine had to grow used Lance's impromptu grabbing and for the first time, they're doing it in front of the others. It's a little thrilling and definitely new but neither of them make a move to pull away, a fact that urges Lance to tug him closer.  
  
Behind him, he can hear Shiro saying something to Keith and Hunk is sniffing at the air ahead, trying to find the closest thing to a restaurant. He no doubt wants them all to sit, to try new foods and enjoy something so simple together. 

_We can pretend we're on Earth,_ Hunk said the moment they'd taken off into the city,  _like we're just going out for a bite before, I dunno, going to see a movie or something.  
_  
A Fyixian passes in a hush of silk, their eyes larger than Thraine's but just as rounded, pupil's blown to a color Lance swears he's never seen before. They tower over Lance and something flutters on their neck, looking soft as a petal but still quite strange. When their eyes move to Thraine, the change in their expression is almost instantaneous,  
  
Distrust.  
  
Fear.  
  
Lance tries for a smile but the Fyixian hurries away, thickly corded hair flowing around their face as if they were underwater. The encounter makes Lance frown but he doesn't comment on it. Instead he just basks in how glad he is to see that Thraine is looking around the city with absolute wonder. His sight isn't trained on those who stare at him, at the judgement that rests there; he's as curious as cat.  
  
"Have you ever seen a planet like this?" Lance suddenly asks, eager to clear his head.  
  
Thraine looks down to him, "No. Most planets I've visited have been destroyed by the war or formerly affected; almost no economy, huddles of survivors in their lasting infrastructure."  
  
Nodding, Lance flexes his fingers and points toward the peak of a castle tower just overhead, "On Earth we have buildings like that."  
  
"Just like that?" Thraine studies the flapping of a yellow flag.  
  
"Well, kinda. Castles on Earth are mostly ruins and nothing more than tourist sites but once, a super long time ago, they were the central hubs of life. Just like this. We have legends of brave kings and dragons and-"  
  
"You sure you're not just talkin' about Middle Earth?"  
  
Lance whips his head to the left, shocked to see Keith walking alongside him. He's staring up at the castle too, dark hair pushed away from his face.  
  
"Seriously?" Lance raises a brow, "Dragons were totally real. And not just in the Lord of the Rings."  
  
"Dragons weren't real, Lance."  
  
Lance stops in his tracks, making his hand slip from Thraine's when he turns to face Keith, "You can believe in the Loch Ness Monster but not _dragons?_ "  
  
"Sure." Keith shrugs and finally rips his eyes away from the castle, "There's proof of Nessie."  
  
"Not really." Shiro murmurs behind them but otherwise doesn't get involved.  
  
Noise erupts around them and Lance decides that, for once, silly banter like this just isn't worth it. He wants to find some new food and maybe get some in Keith's hair, on complete accident of course, but not stand here for twenty minutes arguing the existence of flying lizards.  
  
But when he turns around, Thraine is gone. Shiro and Hunk too, by the looks of it. The crowd has multiplied as if Fyixian's had poured out of homes and shops to converge in the streets. Keith looks just as alarmed, his brows furrowed when he turns, eyes passing frantically across each face.  
  
"Great." Lance takes a step closer to Keith, refusing to get swept away and consumed by the crowd, "We lost them."  
  
"We didn't even move." Keith counters, "They must've went to look at something and just got turned around."  
  
Fyixian's bump into them and Lance stands on his toes, trying and failing to see over their heads. These people are _tall_ , their shoulders resting well above Lance's head as he leads them through, at first trying to be polite with little phrases like _excuse me_ and _please move_. But the Fyixian's are too focused on their shopping, on meeting up with others and speaking in a language as slithering as a snake. Looking back, Lance checks to make sure Keith is following, suddenly wanting desperately to remain with someone familiar. But Keith is frozen, breath heaving against his chest with each tug and push around him.

Turning back, Lance practically shoves a Fyixian away before grabbing hold of Keith's arm, anchoring them in place.  
  
"You okay?" Lance asks, eyes roaming Keith's face, "What's wrong?"  
  
"Nothing." Keith shakes his head but Lance can see the way his jaw is clenching. His eyes are shifting around, looking for a threat or attack and suddenly, Lance feels a twinge of protectiveness. A determination to take the lead and solve the problem because Lance _knows_ that look.  
  
He's seen it on Shiro's face and Hunk's, on all of them at some point during this venture. He recalls his own moments, the way he sometimes feels as if he has to know all of his surroundings before going to bed, the way he watches the darkest corners of his room and swears he sees the growing form of an enemy Galra taking shape. It'll leave him frozen before he can reach for his bayard, calling it to action so that he can make it to the button on the wall and light up the entire room.  
  
"Just hold on to me." Lance meets Keith's eye, "I'll get us off of the road even if I have to trip every alien here with my own light-up sneaker."  
  
At that, Keith lets out a sharp breath. But Lance sees his mouth twitch and without another word, he reaches for Lance's hand, grabbing tight. With a nod, Lance turns and uses his other arm to push at shoulders and arms and anything else he can touch. It takes time and their palms grow sweaty but neither let go; if anything, Lance holds even tighter. He tugs Keith this way and that, pulling his arm close enough to his body that he can eventually feel Keith's heat. The brush of his arm, a puff of air on his neck, the press of his chest.  
  
With a final heaving push Lance erupts out of the fray, nearly knocking into a stand full of some strange hanging fruits. He takes deep breaths and thanks the universe he doesn't have to breathe in copious amounts of sharp alien perfume anymore. It's replaced with the tang of these bright pink fruits and some frying meat, flowers and maybe sewage wafting on the wind. But it's a variety of smells, never settling on just one, never sticking.   
  
Keith comes up beside him and leans against a stone wall, forcing Lance to take a step forward because neither of them have yet to let go.  
  
Though, almost immediately after realizing this, Lance does pull his hand away. Keith clears his throat and wipes his palm on his pants, no doubt trying to rid himself of the sweat.  
  
"Thanks." He glances away before forcing his gaze back, "I can usually handle shit like that."  
  
Lance grins, "I can save the day every once in a while, you know."  
  
Keith rolls his eyes but there's a smile forming on his lips, "My hero."  
  
The teasing words shouldn't make Lance's breath stutter. Yet, he has to take another step back and bring his hand to the nape of his neck to mess with his hair, a nervous tick he's relied on since he was a child. He'd always play with the soft strands before racing on his swim team or playing the guitar in front of his grandparents. Before getting on the flight to leave Cuba and after, during his first day at a new elementary school in Pennsylvania. And later, when talking to someone he thought was really cute. As always, the motions of his fingers are extremely comforting.   
  
"I wonder if Hunk's close." Lance looks around, "Maybe he's with Thraine and Shiro."  
  
Keith makes a noise and pushes away from the wall, "Yeah, probably."  
  
"Wanna find something to eat while we look?" Lance asks, "I smell something meaty and I'm in need of serious spice."  
  
"Sure." Keith shrugs.  
  
And just like that, they're back to normal. No panic or paranoia; it's just them.  
  
" _Sooo,_ " Lance drawls while they walk, "whatcha' hungry for? Maybe they have alien steak or somethin'."  
  
"Candy."  
  
The answer is unexpected and Lance lets out a snort, "What, like a Snickers bar?"  
  
Keith shrugs, "That'd be great, actually."  
  
"Let's play a game, then." Lance wiggles his brows at Keith's cautious look, "First to find something like candy wins."  
  
"Wins what?" Keith suddenly sounds pretty interested.  
  
"We can come up with something." 

"Anything?"  
  
Lance raises a brow at his quick reply, "Yeah. Anything."  
  
Keith nods, "Deal."  
  
For a moment Lance is shocked that Keith actually agreed at all. Usually the guy would shrug Lance off, make a dismissive noise and keep moving. Now, Lance feels excitement and another wave of determination at the thought of this playful competition. They trail around the outskirts of the street, squeezing past vendors and tables full of miscellaneous objects. Glittering jewelry and metallic weapons litter many of them but there's also outfits and shoes, banners and strange glowing flowers and _lots_ of those pink fruits. Lance eyes a silver bracelet, the sides lined with aqua stones. He hovers around it, game momentarily forgotten, before swearing to himself that he won't buy it.  
  
He's too hungry to waste his small amount of money on something as trivial as jewelry.

_No matter how pretty it is,_ he thinks.  
  
Keith walks away from the same booth and turns toward another, still on the hunt.  
  
For a while they lose each other but Lance wills himself to remain calm, knowing Keith wouldn't willingly wander back into the crowds alone. Lance circles a few more tables and buys something rolled with deep red paste. When he tastes it, it's surprisingly hot and he lets out a happy sound, chewing fast.

Suddenly, there's a poke on his back. He squeaks and turns, surprised to see Keith standing there, looking as if he'd won the lottery itself. His face is flushed and his eyes bright, glancing quickly at Lance's red stained lips before flitting back to his eyes.  
  
"No way." Lance mumbles around his mouthful of food.  
  
In Keith's gloved hand there's something pink and purple, hardened on a stick like some kind of warped lollipop.  
  
Keith nods, "This one's for you. I already ate one."  
  
"What?" Lance swallows the last of his food, "That fast?"  
  
Keith just shrugs before pointing out where the booth is. He holds the candy out further and Lance begrudgingly takes it, feeling defeated even when the sweet taste touches his tongue.  
  
His eyes go wide, "It kinda tastes like cotton candy." He tries it again, "How the hell did you find something that tastes like cotton candy in _space?_ "  
  
"I won." Keith breathes, ignoring the question before taking a step closer.  
  
Lance rolls his eyes but takes another big bite out of the candy, the crunch satisfyingly loud.  
  
"Fine. You won." He has to stop himself from pouting, "What do you want as a prize?"  
  
It's quiet between them for a long while but Lance guesses it's because Keith didn't really think about it, that he was just set on winning. Lance chews and walks to a wall, quick to slide into a sit, legs pulled up to his chest. He holds the candy stick between his fingers and Keith moves to sit beside him, close enough to let their shoulders touch. They watch the people of Fyix wander around, long legs passing in silky colors of gold and yellow and auburn. Eventually, he turns back to Keith and wipes at his lips, cringing at how sticky they feel.  
  
"So?" He asks, "Know what you want, yet?"  
  
"Uh, yeah." Keith clears his throat, "I think so."  
  
Lance waits, expecting something like: _you clean Black for an entire week_ or _you have to train with me four times a damn day.  
_  
What he's _not_ expecting is for Keith to lean closer. For them to crowd the same space and touch more than they have in years, for the smell of cotton candy to twine with Lance's own homemade shampoo and Keith's simple musk.  
  
"Uh, dude?" Lance tries to gulp but it's becoming hard, his stomach climbing all the way to his throat, "What're you doing?"  
  
"I-" Keith's brows furrow but he's cut off, eyes snapping to the space above Lance's head.  
  
And then he's pulling back, looking almost shocked at himself before getting to his feet. Lance tilts his head back and sees a figure of purple.  
  
"Thraine." He breathes, watching as the Marmoran makes his way around to reach a hand forward. Lance grasps it and pulls himself up, "Where did you _go?_ "  
  
Thraine tears his eyes away from Keith and Lance watches his ears peel away from his head, settling back to their normal height, "Shiro and I were looking at an assortment of blades when the midday rush began. We've been searching for both of you for several hours."  
  
"Do you know how hard it is," Hunk suddenly gasps as he stops behind them, bending to place his hands on his knees , "to keep up with these two?"

Several bags hang from his wrists, probably chock full of ingredients and mechanical parts.   
  
"Yeah." Lance smiles and reaches for Thraine's hand, fighting off the confused thump of his heart, "They're like two mountains."  
  
"Uh, more like _three_ mountains with skyscrapers for legs."  
  
Lance laughs at the visual and lets Thraine lead him away from the wall, sneakers blinking before he urges Hunk to follow. Keith and Shiro are already walking ahead but Shiro turns around every few seconds, making sure to keep the other three in his sight. Lance watches Keith's red jacket shift in a shrug at something said, shoulders tense.  
  
"Are you alright?" Thraine asks, running a claw across the back of Lance's knuckles, "You seem upset."  
  
"Oh," Lance blinks, "No, I'm good. Totally fine. I was actually thinking about this candy we found-"  
  
"Candy?"  
  
"It's a sweet food, kind of." Lance looks to Hunk for a better explanation but the boy just shrugs, leaving Lance to search for an answer, "You've had something sweet before, right?"  
  
At Thraine's expression, Lance feels a bit sad at the thought that he's never been able to enjoy something as simple as candy. That he's lived his whole life on soldier's rations, on war and bland foods rushed between missions.  
  
"Let's get some, then. Keith told me where it is."

 

★

 

  
Later, after Hunk managed to get chased by a waddling creature with multiple heads and Shiro had been talked into putting on the Fyixian equivalent of lipstick, they make their way to the ship.  
  
It's a nice walk now that the crowds have dispersed and though Lance is a bit disappointed they didn't get to go into the castle itself, it was nice to feel a bit normal. None of the civilians saw them as Paladin's or soldiers, there were no meetings or balls or alliances made. It was a simple visit, one that he could map on what he and Matt have come to dub the team's _Super Mega Awesome Space Road Trip.  
_  
Making it back to the ship, he's surprised to see the other's already gathered around. Pidge is sporting a new bag, one that looks threaded together by careful hands, and Matt is talking animatedly to Coran, both of them waving their hands at some revelation.  
  
"What's going on?" Keith asks first, probably just as curious as the rest of them as to why no one is actually _inside_ of the ship.  
  
Allura is sitting down, hair loose around her shoulders, "According to the locals the fields are quite beautiful when their brightest moon shines. I'd like to see it."  
  
"What happens?" Lance looks around, finding the fields just as they'd left them. He sees nothing new, nothing out of place or extraordinary. 

Krolia is leaning against the ship, one leg raised when she calls out, "Just watch!"

Lance raises a brow but turns completely, surprised to see the lights in the city dimming to low glows. The castle itself remains brightest but even its windows have taken it down a few notches. Full of curiosity, Lance walks to the edge of the ramp and lets a few swaying plants brush his hands, looking around with wide eyes. And then, one by one, lights trail down from the sky. Blues and reds and yellows converge in an undulating pattern, looking as if the Aurora Borealis had traveled from Alaska all the way to this new planet. Only the lights are vertical and long, shimmering like thousands of stars in shades of gold and pink. The higher the moon rises, the stronger they grow, until they're reflecting off of the entire field like a glimmering ocean.  
  
Lance turns to find Thraine, to urge him closer so that they can venture out and try to touch the beams. The Marmoran follows him into the field and the others do the same, until all of them are staring up in wonder at the way the lights shift.

Looking around, Lance takes them in with a giddy heart. He knows that these fun times probably won't last, that the civil war between the Galra is only going to spread and heat up. That he will, inevitably, have to don his armor and once again become a soldier.

But for now, he allows himself to enjoy this.

 

★

 

Later, after Lance has showered and Thraine is sleeping beside him, he drags himself out of bed. They'd talked for a long while and Lance had run his fingers along Thraine's ears the entire time, loving the feel of velvet and light fur. He'd let Thraine's tail curl around his hip, had felt the press of lips on his own and had willingly pushed into them. Thraine's teeth nipped at his mouth but Lance didn't mind, instead enjoying the sensation, finding his stomach doing flips at the feel of them.  
  
But now Thraine is asleep and Lance is restless, angry at himself. Angry that he enjoyed the kisses and the touches but a pair of eyes had flashed in his mind anyway; fast and unavoidable, dark beneath a fringe of messy hair. He's angry that it's been _months_ since he's thought of Keith as nothing more than a missed chance, something he should have allowed himself to pursue but was too afraid to try and now the boy is sticking to his thoughts like super glue.  
  
With a look back at Thraine, Lance leans to his bag and pulls out a piece of candy, smelling the sweet waft almost immediately. On second thought he picks up two, knowing he'll probably end up eating his feelings anyway.  
  
It's easy to find his way through the halls even if they are different than the Castle of Lions. The orange glow casts shadows but he quickly takes several right turns and one left before finding the observation deck, the stars blooming before him as if in welcome.

But he stops short at the sight of a figure sitting ahead, shirt rumpled, knees crossed in quiet contemplation. Lance doesn't know what would've happened if Thraine hadn't found the pair of them in the city but he likes to think it was a simple misunderstanding. Keith probably wanted to make the winning punishment drag out, to make Lance wait in anticipation before telling him to do something stupid.  
  
With a determined nod of his head, Lance forces any warring thoughts away. They're friends, battle buddies- nothing more.  
  
"Here." He says, shocking Keith from his thoughts for the second time within the last three days.  
  
Lance throws a candy onto Keith's lap and plops down next to him, unwrapping the shiny material before bringing it to his lips. Keith stares at Lance for a long moment before reaching for his own, nodding in thanks.  
  
"Thraine didn't like these too much." Lance eventually says, hating the silence, "I bet he'd like Red Hots, though. Those little cinnamon things that come in boxes-"  
  
"I know what Red Hots are." Keith chews a bit before continuing, "Cotton Candy's better though. And chocolate."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Thraine," Keith glances at Lance, changing the subject quick as a whip, "is he okay? Like, to you?"  
  
Lance swallows his candy, already feeling the blush rise on his neck. He hopes it's too dark in here for Keith to see it.  
  
"Uh, yep." He tries for a laugh, "More than okay. He's pretty awesome."  
  
Something passes over Keith's face but he ultimately nods before turning his attention back to the stars, "Oh."  
  
"Why? You gonna beat him up if he hurts me or something?" Lance teases and brings his knees to his chest, letting his crossed arms rest on them.  
  
"Yeah." Keith is smiling from the corner of Lance's eye, "Planned on it."  
  
And these words, as quiet as they are, break the tension. They laugh as if in relief and Lance almost chokes on his candy when he hears Keith snort, a dorky little sound that he tries to mimic.  
  
"Shut the fuck up." Keith throws his candy stick at Lance's head.  
  
But Lance doesn't stop. He laughs and laughs and laughs, completely oblivious to the eyes watching from behind, shrouded in the dark.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *ominous music plays in the distance* 
> 
> I have a soft spot for the team just having fun so this chapter was really nice to write tbh. I can't wait to finish up chapter five and delve back into Keith's head though. The poor boy is a _mess._
> 
> Also, expect Thraine's POV to show up, most likely as chapter six! 
> 
> Thank you for reading and interacting, I hope you continue to like the story!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes!

 

* * *

 

 

 _"…There is the pulsing rush of Longing, the lover’s whisper, irresistible—magic to make the sanest man go mad."  
_  
_-Homer_

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

  
"I saw you on the observation deck."

The words slam into Keith like a freight train. Stuck on the tracks, all he can do is stare at the figure sitting across from him. They hold what could only be deemed the equivalent of space rum, the liquid giving a quick burn in the throat before settling warm in the belly. 

Well, Keith's is rum at least.

Pidge raises a brow and takes a sip of her weird juice, "You and Lance."

"And?"

The word is a snap of sound, forced from the recesses of Keith's throat. Pieces from their board game shift when Keith places his cup down, feeling the fuzzy effects playing at the edge of his mind.

Yeah. Definitely space rum.

"And i'm just a bit curious." She shrugs but he can see a gleam in her eye, "The conversation looked kinda intense for a while."

Keith rolls his eyes, "It wasn't."

She hums and pushes her glasses back up the length of her nose, moving a piece on the board with deft intelligence. Keith glowers at the move, at the obnoxious light that suddenly protrudes with the word WINNER blazed in neon purple. It hovers over the board before disappearing in a puff, something like faux confetti raining down.

Why he agrees to play this game, he'll never know.

Keith slugs back the rest of his drink and folds, feeling the fuzz turn to a full blown haze, blinks slowing with the gathering flush on his face.

"Well," He drawls, arms folding against his chest, "it was a bit serious at first. I guess."

"Obviously." Pidge sighs and gathers the game pieces, "Anyone with eyes could see that. You looked pained or something. A total mess."

He scoffs but doesn't deny anything. Eyeing the bottle of rum, Keith wonders if this could get the confusion out of his lungs. If it could wipe clean the weird bursts of pain twisting in his ribs, the way his thoughts are taken up in the form of blue and blue and blue-

"So, I've been looking into Thraine." Pidge changes the subject but her eyes remain on Keith's face, gauging his reaction.

He hopes nothing shows.

"Find anything?" Keith leans back against the couch less than gracefully, hands falling to either side of him to stop himself from tipping over, "I don't trust him."

"I know, which is why I tried to look into him. Other than his team drills with us, the guy's plate is sparkling clean. I mean, he's a space ninja so I guess that makes sense but-"

"Still don't trust him." Keith hiccups, eyes going wide at the sound.

Pidge lets out a loud bark of a laugh but Keith stands before she can do something he'd want to kill her for in the morning. Something like taking a damn picture. Or, worse, a video.

"Goin' to bed." He slurs, voice a low mumble.

Whatever's in that space rum is strong, way too much for Keith to keep his walk straight and his eyes clear. They blur with each step but he doesn't stop, determined to get away from Pidge and anymore accidental proclamations.

He doesn't trust himself drunk. Out in the desert, after he managed to get in the good graces of the old man who owned the only gas station for miles, he's had his fair share of alcohol. Nothing too heavy but enough to keep him company, a darker secret that he usually doesn't like to reflect on. But out there, no one could see him stumble in the dusk. The setting sun was a backdrop that he looked forward to and when it was gone completely, when the night was his alone, he would scream. Just shout drunkenly at the sky and let it all out, until his lungs ached and he was left chuckling. Laughing at himself, at his situation and the hopeless lonely tugs in his chest.

But those drunken nights definitely weren't like this. Heat thrums around his body, face feeling as though it were held beneath a warm light.

Rounding another corner, Keith stumbles, hand reaching toward open air as if it could catch him.

Instead, something wraps around his waist and lifts him back up, saving his face from probable collision with the floor. He grunts and feels the weight slither away, his entire body swaying with the change.

"Keith?"

If he were in his right mind, he'd probably ignore them. Mumble an apology and move on, find his way back to his room and hide for the remainder of the night.

As it turns out, he's _not_ in his right mind.

Lance looks worried, brows furrowed beneath astray hair. Keith eyes it, wobbling ever so slightly, before shifting his attention to the Marmoran. Tail now wrapped around Lance's waist, Keith rolls his eyes and leans against the wall with a huff.

"What're y'all doin' up?" Keith glances between them, wishing his voice wasn't such a mess. 

Thraine's ears flick back but Keith doesn't know what that means. Tired? Angry? He debates asking, wondering if it would be rude.

"We went to the observation deck." Lance says, slow and careful, confusion ringing clear in his tone, "I couldn't sleep."

"Are you alright, Keith?" Thraine suddenly asks, large eyes blinking in languid motion, sleep-ridden but obviously trying to stay awake.

"M'fine." Keith sniffs and runs a hand through his hair, finally gathering enough of himself to push away from the damn wall, "Jus' tired. Thanks for uh, not letting me break my nose just now." He grimaces, " So...yeah. Bye."

Foolishly, he thinks that'll be it. He was polite, wasn't he? Idle conversation should be enough to get them on their way, to leave him alone so that he won't do something ridiculous.

But he doesn't get far. The hallway undulates and so does he, tilting much too far to the right.

"Woah dude, wait." Lance's breathing is ragged, a strong arm grabbing at his shoulder. It stabilizes Keith, "You sure you're okay?"

"Fine." Keith slurs and wipes at his mouth, feeling as though the space rum still coats sticky sweet on his lips.

Then, his eyes drift to different lips. Lips that sit beneath a subtle swath of freckles and catch on a tooth when Lance opens his mouth to speak, chipped from an old hit to the face-

"Doesn't seem like it." Lance pulls his attention back up, "You look sick."

"Just-" Keith hiccups, "a bit drunk."

" _Drunk?_ " Lance groans and throws his head back, eyes falling shut before a look of determination passes over his face, "C'mon then, i'll help you to your room."

"What a gentleman." Keith glances back, expecting to see Thraine following close behind.

But the Marmoran is gone, hallway empty and Keith feels his throat close up at the thought that they're once again alone.

His words fall flat, the air thick with something unspoken. Lance's arm curls around Keith's waist, fingers pressing into the bit of exposed skin from his risen shirt. They start to walk in silence, save for Keith's occasional hiccups. Their footsteps echo, orange lights passing over their faces one after another and he finds that he can't help putting most of his weight on Lance. Their faces are close, cheeks almost brushing when Lance uses his other hand to lift Keith just a tad higher at his side. 

If Keith had a clear head, he knows he'd be mortified. Unlike the countless other times he'd been helped with walking, never has it been because of something like this. When he tries to pull away, to say that he's got it from here, Lance's fingers tighten just a fraction.

"I'm not gonna let you fall and get a concussion." He snickers, "Even if the bump on your head would look hilarious in the morning."

The laugh that leaves Keith's lips is dry, "Thanks so much."

Keith wishes he'd stop talking, urging himself to keep his drunken mouth shut. Just for once, he wants there to be a calm quiet between them, not strained or forced or slightly awkward. He wants to look back on it and find comfort. 

But all thoughts of Lance, of his voice and snagged-toothed smile, do the opposite.

It makes Keith energetic, full of something that wants to burst free.

"Your hair is soft." He blurts, fingers twisting and playing with the fine hair on the nape of Lance's neck.

Lance clears his throat, "It's called conditioner. Home made but works the same, you should try it someti-"

"I like your hair."

The words simmer for a moment and it's long enough for Keith, a drunken traitor to himself, to continue.

"Reminds me of feathers. Of a bird." He hiccups with a smile, "Maybe, like, a duck or something."

"A _duck?"_ Lance sounds positively offended, "No thanks. If you're gonna compare me to a damn bird, at least make it accurate."

"A Blue Jay, then."

Lance glances at him, "Seriously?"

"Yup." Keith hums, "They're pretty."

"You just saying that 'cause of Blue?" Lance asks, an image of the lion popping up in both of their heads. He turns them down a final corridor and finally, Keith's room appears, "In that case, you must be one of those red ones. The kind that always stick around in the winter."

"A cardinal."

"Yeah," Lance sounds bemused, "one of those."

Keith lets out a breathy laugh but doesn't deny it. He's always liked birds.

He isn't sure how they make it inside but before he can do anything to stop it, Lance is plopping him onto the bed with a huff. Keith falls back, hair splayed on his sheets like water, face colored an embarrassing shade of red.

"You gonna be okay?" Lance smirks down at him, face shrouded by a single orange light behind him, "Not gonna puke and die, right?"

"M'fine." Keith mumbles, turning his face to feel the cool material of the sheets.

But where once he felt light, giddy and wired, what comes next is unwelcome. It makes him wince, the beginnings of a headache itching at his temple.

"You don't look fine." Lance sighs and glances around, spotting a rag draped over a chair and a half empty water pouch.

Keith doesn't watch to see what he's doing but he can hear it, the shuffling of feet and pouring of water, a few drops falling to the ground before Lance makes his way back. He climbs onto the bed and sits on his knees, suddenly peering down at Keith with wide eyes.

"What?" Keith winces again, wishing the feeling in his chest would just fuck off already.

If only he wouldn't have accepted the help back to his room, Lance would already be gone. Probably tucked into his own bed with Thraine, content and warm.

But that's the thing, isn't it?

Keith doesn't want him to leave.

The thought of being in his room by himself makes him uneasy, the air too quiet to be considered comfortable. It's rare that Keith feels like this but now it's intense, brought to the forefront of his mind where it's seemed to take root.

"What do you do?" Keith suddenly asks, "When you're scared that the others will leave?" A questioning noise rises from Lance's throat, his thin brows furrowing before Keith continues, "Everyone leaves."

Something sharp and fast passes over Lance's face, something that morphs and makes him shift closer, sheets sighing against his legs. Legs that, Keith suddenly realizes, are _bare_ save for a thin pair of shorts. No armor or jeans hide his skin and like metal to magnet, Keith can't help but look. It's a fleeting glance, eyes catching on a large scar wrapped around his upper thigh before trailing away again, feeling as though he doesn't have the right to see it.

"Sometimes they do." Lance confirms, "But not always."

"Well, what do you do? When you're scared they will?"

Lance hums, teeth playing with his bottom lip, "I hold tight. Let them know that nothing has changed, that I'd rather they stay and that I care about them. But that doesn't always work and sometimes it's okay. It's okay to let go."

"I used to tell myself that my mom would come back for me." Keith needs to shut up, _wants_ to shut up- "And that my dad hadn't really died. That he'd simply gone to sleep for a while. But I wasn't so stupid, you know. I just didn't want to be alone."

"No one does, Keith."

Keith turns his head against the sheets, eyes finding Lance's own in the gathering dark. The glow of the light on the wall dims with a timer but there's just enough for him to focus on Lance completely, to take him in with nothing short of fierce adoration.

Longing erupts in his chest with aches and tugs. 

"I have the feeling you'll leave too." He suddenly admits, voice cracking.

He doesn't know why he's admitting all of this. For the longest while, Keith assumed these thoughts were gone. With the return of his mom, shouldn't they be? Shouldn't he be better, feeling secure in his relationships with his team?

Lance takes in a sharp breath and leans forward, brown hair falling to frame his face. A sharp flutter in his stomach makes Keith's breath hitch, wondering for the umpteenth time how the boy's eyes could possibly be so _blue_. Keith supposes he'd noticed his eyes a long time ago; that he probably found them rather pretty. In the Garrison and throughout their early days fighting the Galra, passing over them with a hidden fondness before getting back to the task at hand.

But now, they're luminous. They shine and shine, glimmering like a billion burning stars on the sea.

Leaning closer, those eyes dance around Keith's face, searching for something. For Keith, nothing exists outside of this moment. Where weeks ago he'd pushed all thoughts of the blue boy far away; kept him at a reasonable distance and avoided the idea of him late at night- now Keith feels it catching up like the speed of light. He licks his lips, feeling vulnerable and excited and a bit scared. But he supposes that's alright. It's a new fear, one that settles in his guts and blossoms, flowers traveling gently up his throat. 

Reality returns with the gentle press of a wet cloth on Keith's face, cooling the drunken flush with gentle swipes. And then that reality slams into him, makes him realize that he'd been too late. Too late for his stupid brain to come to terms with what had always been there, hidden behind his own stubborn walls. Lance gulps, throat bobbing as he dabs at the skin on Keith's jaw. He's here to help, nothing more. He's Keith's friend, closest besides Shiro, _nothing more_.

It's quiet for a long while, the only sounds being their breaths and a push of stale air through the vents. If Keith doesn't focus, if he closes his eyes, he can pretend the noise is rain.

He doesn't realize he's drifting to sleep until Lance touches a finger to his nose, urging him to blink awake long enough to see him smile.

With a whisper, Lance brings his hand to Keith's own and squeezes, "I'm not going anywhere."

 

★

 

Fighting with a hangover is a self-made curse. Keith grunts as Black is slung through open space, a shout in his ear alerting him that Hunk took a blow as well.

The ships came out of nowhere. Keith had been asleep, body heavy and throat parched, when banging erupted on his door. Seconds later, a shitty but incredibly loud alarm blared with enough force to have him jumping up,as alert and ready as he could be.

Now, his hands shake a bit with each shot he fires, sweat breaking out on his skin. He has no time to reflect on last night but bits come back, Pidge's smirk and something cool on his face; the flutter of blue wings in his minds' eye.

"To your left!" Allura shouts and Keith turns just in time, blasting a hole through the enemy cruiser with ease.

"Thanks." He grumbles, already jumping back into the fray.

They knew it was only a matter of time before this happened. Only a matter of time before they were found or hunted, lions still a bit too weak to form Voltron and the new ship less than great at defense.

All in all, if they aren't careful, they're screwed.

"Pidge, take the right and pair up with Lance, keep us covered when we get close to the main ship." Keith orders, eyes flitting across the fight, "Hunk and Allura, follow me. If we destroy it the rest of them should follow suit."

Coran agrees, his voice resounding in all of their ears, "We were right about that hive mind." Beeps echo from the main deck on the ship, loud and full of purpose, "This fleet seems to be made up of bots. Probably sent by someone who didn't want to bother leaving their stronghold."

Avoiding shot after shot, Keith zooms through the ships and takes them out one by one, Hunk and Allura following suit. They work with connection, with experience and understanding.

A screen pops up on Keith's dash and he sees Shiro, his shock of white hair falling across tired eyes. But he looks determined, mouth a hard line with the rattle of the ship, "The thrusters are situated underneath." He swipes his hand on a screen and the blueprint for the ship opens in front of Keith, "Taking those out should be enough. The initial explosion should start a chain reaction."

Keith studies the image for a moment longer before giving a sharp nod, "Got it."

The three of them take turns blowing away at the ship, the thrusters protected by a thick ward. More cruisers fly from the hangar and Keith hisses a curse, pushing his lion to lessen the distance. The closer he gets, the more accurate the assault will become.

"Lance, can I get some cover?" Hunk grunts and static rises before clearing away, "I can't get a clear shot."

"Got it, buddy."

Light erupts around Keith and he finds himself calmed, just a tad, by the presence of him. Like a cool balm, his attention focuses long enough to keep his headache from blossoming to a full blown migraine.

"Final shot." Allura breathes, pulling Blue out of Keith's range.

He nods even though she can't see it.

Like all of them, he just wants this over with.

Taking a deep breath, he presses down on the lever and the beam erupts from Black's mouth, strong enough to push the rest of the enemy cruisers back into the ship. Explosions ring out from their collisions and then, without much more warning, the thruster blows. It shatters violently, the force of it strong enough to make Keith pull away, flipping Black through the air to join the others.

All thoughts of hangovers and death fade away as more and more enemy ships are destroyed. One after another, they boom and burst in bright light, a domino effect surrounding them.

And just like that, it's done.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uhhhh this story won't be following canon I guess. I started this before season 7 so I'm just going to continue it the way I originally planned. The next chapter is from Thraine's POV! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and comments are very appreciated <3


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> alskdjf I need to stop uploading chapters after midnight...it's literally 4AM and I have to be up in two hours. Insomnia is a curse.
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy and I apologize in advance for any mistakes!

* * *

 

 

 _"You love what delivers you into light, which sometimes means_  
_to be possessed of a sickness so pure it feels shapeless."_  
  
_— Joanna Klink_

 

* * *

 

 

 

Thraine comes from a planet that had once been untouched by war.

Unlike most other members of the Blade, his sparse knowledge of where he was raised is not made up entirely of blood and strife. For the first few years of his life, he figures he had a good family, those who managed to escape servitude in the mad Emperor's army and find refuge before he was even born.

For a long time, he thinks he might have been content.

Until, suddenly, he was not.

Waking to a ship on course for the unknown can leave anyone stunned, let alone a child. His timid questions were met with little explanation other than the mentioning of a rescue. Of the rebellious organization he would have the option of joining, of the trials he would have to partake in and the Emperor he was meant to work against.

Night after night, with an aching body and bruised skin, he would get partial flashes of remembrance. His dreams would snatch him from reality and thrust him into a past he could never fully hold on to. Always, there were explosions. It bombarded an inner city with frightening power, limbs and guts flying, holes opening up in the ground to swallow everything whole. Sonic booms signal the infiltration of ships in a thick atmosphere, purple and grey overtaking what had once been a clear blue sky.

He remembers running, tail whipping behind him, confusion ringing in his ears as more and more chaos erupted. Buildings were falling and people were trampling, panicked enough to knock over anyone and anything. Thraine was violently pushed aside and for once his tail did not catch him from falling.

A loud crash forced him to look up, eyes going wide just before a huge piece of debris collapsed atop every person standing underneath. There was blaring pain at his temple and then there was nothing- all had gone infinitely dark.

After the injury to his skull all memory of family, of childhood and simplicity, was erased. Whoever he was before the attack was without a doubt stolen away from him. Whoever he could have become was crushed beneath an unjust boot.  

Later, he figures being raised with a blade in his palm helped slice all musings of his upbringing to pieces. Each time he tried to delve back, to find the face of his mother or father, he eventually gave up. This should have made him sad. It should have made him angry. But where those emotions _should_ have been, there was only an empty crevice.

Rarely did anything, let alone anyone, peak his interest. It had been easy living that way, easy to survive with an ever-changing team, no need for personal relationships to deter his path.

It was easy before he met _him_.

The first time he'd seen the blue paladin, the entire Marmoran base had been watching a transmission received from battle on the surface of a nearby star-system. None of the paladin's were in their lions and though Thraine's sights originally settled on the man with a metallic arm, all of his attention was tugged elsewhere very quickly.

There's no doubt the boy had skill. The weapon in his hand sent blast after blast of cover fire, taking out targets seemingly as easy as breathing. Each hit landed true, aiding the others on their tireless trek forward, all of them trying to make it to the extraction point. From what Thraine could see, a large scale bomb was set to detonate the moment the countdown ended. If the shape of the bomb was anything to go by, it would destroy the entire planet in minutes unless they somehow managed to stop it.

Looking back at the Paladin's, at the one bathed in blue, Thraine wracked his brain for remembrance. They'd been told the names of the team days after the red one, Keith, had taken the Trials. After his lion had fought to get him back with true violence, unlike anything the Marmoran's had expected.

Hunk and Allura were the easiest to place. She was a woman with spirit, a princess thrust into a war that had never shown her an ounce of mercy, ultimately turning her into another soldier. And the large boy looked as though he could lift several thousands pounds with one hand, face set with both partial fear and determination. They, Thraine decided almost immediately, made a formidable pair. The little one slides beneath the legs of a soldier-bot and turns like a whip, taking him out with a snap of electricity. Pidge, then. Thraine recalls the name Shiro and again Keith, finding no need to watch them any longer.

Yet, there's one name missing. Thraine tilts his head, ears twitching, annoyance at himself springing up with surprising strength. Another shot rings out through the footage and a soft murmur spreads around him, Blade's commemorating the blue paladin on his impressive marksmanship. Shot after shot, the name sits on the edge of his mind until, finally, it comes to him.

_Lance._

The boy gets up, camera following close behind as he slides down the length of a sloping hill. Dirt and rock fly up but he doesn't stop, not even when a hidden soldier swipes at his head, aiming to decapitate. Lance bends backward and his bayard morphs, changing from gun to sword in milliseconds. It slices into the soldier and blood splays, large drops landing on Lance's white armor.

He runs on.

And just before he reaches the others, the footage stops short.

Thraine breaks his gaze away and holds his hands behind his back, tail swishing on the ground.

"The Paladin's have agreed to our training methods." Kolivan says, looking away from the huge screen that had displayed the live footage. He speaks in confidence, as if knowing they will survive the mission without the need to see it himself. "Select teams will work with them in drills, tasked with perfecting a partnership with certain pilots before the actual fighting begins." He looks around the room, "There is no room for error."

 

★

 

Weeks later, Thraine found himself standing inside of the blue lion. He situated himself near the back, taking in the scene behind the safety of his mask. If not for that, there's no doubt he would have been caught staring. Seeing the paladin on screen simply couldn't compare to seeing him in person. He was lithe, smaller than Thraine expected and his body looked alarmingly fragile. Regardless of the muscles on his back, formed from endless fights and training, Thraine wondered if the muscle offers much protection at all.

This new interest didn't sit well with Thraine. In the beginning, he didn't like it at all. He wanted to avoid it, to focus on his missions and his missions alone. He didn't have time for distractions.

Though while his emotions remained dormant, curiosity alone eventually made him act. He would stand behind Lance's chair and debate saying something, consider asking a simple question or giving his input on tactics spoken through communications on the lion's console. More than once, he'd come close but then the hatch would open and his team would begin their drill. 

He had no other option but to follow. 

Yet, in the end, it was Lance who spoke first.

It shocked Thraine, made him look over to the boy quicker than he intended, ears wanting to stand tall at the question directed his way but unable to due to the confines of his mask. At first, he barely heard him. He wondered if he should ask the boy to repeat himself, to speak a bit louder over the low hum of the machine's engines.

 _Well?_ Lance had continued, _Do you like falling?_

It was a strange question. One that Thraine wasn't expecting no matter his quickly his answer came, the truth spilling forth with surprising ease. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a simple conversation; the last time someone had shown genuine interest in his thoughts.

The small human intrigued him from the very beginning. Thraine began to look forward to the paladin's calls, to his tales and rants, the emotions passing over his face an extraordinary thing to see. Thraine began to study him, to copy his facial expressions and mimic his smiles to the best of his ability, hoping it wouldn't raise suspicion. Hoping he didn't look strange. 

He didn't know Lance would want anything more than what he called, _awesome friendship._ But the day they finally saw each other again, battle worn but stable, Thraine began to understand the paladin's intentions all too well. The hesitant touch he received on his hand was intentional, his wide blue eyes shining with nothing short of hope. Nothing less than yearning.

 _"We're friends, right?"_ Lance had asked him once they were alone in the blue lion.

 _"Yes."_ Thraine answered, same as always.

He lowered his mask, almost enjoying the fact that Lance has been the only one to see his face without the neon glow.

Lance smiled, brown cheeks darkening with a rush of blood beneath the skin, _"Have you ever considered us to be something more? Or, I dunno, wanted us to be?"_

For the first time, Thraine had looked at the boy in a new light. Had seen the way his lashes sat pretty against his cheeks when he glanced at his feet, the way his hair looked soft regardless of the blood dried with speckled patches. And, suddenly, Thraine's curiosity was tugging him forward. Urging him to search for any possible feeling resting in his chest, knowing there was supposed to be something that made him flush like Lance was now. _Knowing_ that some sort of emotional reaction would one day show up the more time he spent with him.

Wouldn't it?

Lance's breath hitched at the sudden proximity and Thraine watched his throat bob, something primal whispering to him over and over: _bite him._

Instead, Lance's fingers once again brushed the back of his hand. Thraine made to pull away, unused to the gentle contact. But at the look on Lance's face, he eventually relented, finding that the boy's flesh was warm. Warm and soft, his touch nothing at all like the Marmoran members Thraine had occasionally copulated with before.

He decided he liked that heat.

 

★

 

Thraine wonders if it is jealousy that makes him dislike the red paladin. If it is protectiveness that makes him want to keep the boy far away from Lance, to confront him about the looks he constantly sends in the blue paladin's direction. Even drunk, he looked at Lance in a way that put Thraine on edge. Was he hostile? Somehow dangerous, regardless of their seemingly lengthy friendship? 

Thraine wonders if the sharp new bursts of pressure in his chest are a form of protectiveness or simply _possessiveness_.

It wouldn't be hard to admit the latter. Thraine understands that he is not a very nice man. Patient and calm? Yes. But kind?

There's a reason he isn't dead yet.

In the Blade of Marmora, death follows each and every one of them like an old friend. It takes and takes and gives nothing in return, no matter how unfair it may seem. He knows he's been the cause of death for many others. Enemies, who he took down with merciless skill. Other Blade's, who he's had to leave behind even if he could have risked turning back for them. There is a reason he isn't dead yet and it is because he's careful. Precise in his calculations, accurate in his estimations.

Now, he estimates that Keith Kogane is irrevocably moonstruck for Lance.

And he isn't sure that he likes it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sigh, tbh I'm getting so attached to Thraine :'[ he's had it rough, poor guy. Keep in mind, he's not human so he sees Keith staring all wonky at Lance and immediately goes into high alert mode...and he likes to bite. so. yeah. His brain injury was traumatic and it explains a bit of why his emotional process is sorta out of touch, though a lot of that is also just who he is. It tends to overlap. 
> 
> I hope this gave some insight into his character even though he's a bit complicated. His POV will come around again and I do plan on giving him character development though I'm not too certain which direction that may be. 
> 
> Thank you soooooo much for the comments and kudos!! They make me want to work so hard on this story for y'all. (also, shout out to the mystery anon on tumblr, I really love getting your messages!)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes! 
> 
> ((Also, I made an instrumental version playlist for this fic and I linked it in the beginning of the story too but wanted to place it here in case anyone missed it. You can find it - [Here](https://open.spotify.com/user/h95ttixcz3rzz8u6ywiudolf1/playlist/16LNM7xzkN3eCRpNNxvXyS?si=hvs5e1-dQLqkUjEswAo3IQ) -

* * *

 

 

 _I tie to your existence_  
_my most simple starburst._

_-Julia de Burgos_

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

  
Since he was a child, Lance has been prone to a solitary sadness.

Out here, in the expanse of the cosmic sea, it's usually easy enough to distract himself. There are battles to be fought, people to save and a never ending supply of enemies biting at their ankles. He's grown used to the noise and the action, the way it keeps him from getting stuck in his head.

But sometimes space still gets too quiet.

There are lengthy periods of time that the entire team is resting and today is no different, the attacks that had bombarded them the past few days seeming to last _years_ instead of hours. Lance had woken from short nap rather grumpy, angry at himself, scowling at the returning coil of dread in his stomach that he knew all to well. He'd crept away from Thraine and practically tip-toed past every door, careful to bypass a snoring Coran before finding his way to the training bay and onward, to the Hangar. He'd grabbed his headphones as a second thought, the quiet hum of the castle less than comforting.

Now, he adorns his armor and pushes the large helmet over his head, the headphone's digging into his temples a tad too hard. But he ignores the feeling and instead focuses on the soft music already wafting to him, listening the rise and fall of a soft guitar. He quickly climbs into Red, intent on what he plans to do.

This wouldn't be the first time and he knows it won't be the last. These small escapes are self indulgent and dangerous considering enemy warships could breach their perimeter at any given moment. But when that creeping sadness pokes at him, when it clutches at his chest for no other reason than the fact that it can, Lance would rather risk a surprise attack than bother anyone else with his problems.

Red takes him out of the Hangar but they don't fly far, the light of the ship always there to guide him back home. He lets the lion float, hovering with the lack of gravity before turning the music up and gathering the thickly corded metallic rope that will tether him to safety. He hooks it to his belt and enters the tiny room meant for things like this, the flashing light allowing him the comfort of knowing he won't be thrust into space with any sort of violence. The hatch opens slowly, trading oxygen for the that lack thereof, until he can slide easily through. Pushing with his legs, Lance feels his entire body become weightless.

He spins onto his back and lets the rope pull taught, blinking gaze travelling through the ever-dark. Distantly, a rather bright star twinkles in a multitude of changing color. He wonders if it's going supernova or if it's brand new, birthed from something Lance admits he will never be able to fully understand.

He stares at it for a long time, one hand moving beside him as if he were trailing it through water. If he tries hard enough, he can imagine that the cool liquid is actually passing over his fingers, that he's not so far from Earth after all.

The thought makes him lose his breath, knowing they're getting closer each time they reach a new quadrant of the universe. He wonders if his mom can feel it the way he does. If there's a constant tug that makes her look up at the night sky; if she somehow knows he's still alive.

He supposes he'll find out soon enough. It makes him smile, giving momentary reprieve from the sadness that threatens to take control.

He won't let it.

Not anymore.

With a large release of breath, Lance shuts his eyes, lashes brushing softly against the crests of his cheeks. He hums to the song before allowing his head to fall back just another inch, successfully easing his body into relaxation. His mind wanders from one thing to the next, fluttering along as if on a breeze.

He thinks about Thraine, no doubt still curled up in the mountain of blankets they'd stolen from the cargo hold only hours earlier. The Marmoran likes to sleep, Lance has come to learn. If Lance didn't think he was so cute doing it, he'd probably get a bit annoyed. There's no hiding Lance's own sleep issues from the others, almost all of them aware that he wanders the halls at night, sometimes waking up late for training when he finally manages to get a few hours of sleep. Nonetheless, he's grown comfortable resting beside Thraine. He can tuck his head into the crook of his neck, let his soft tail wrap around his waist and listen to something close to a purr vibrate in his chest. All the while thinking: _what more could I want?_

For a while now, he thought he had it all. He had his friends and their journey home, a relationship that was comfortable and surprisingly solid, the entire universe practically at his fingertips. Isn't that enough?

Yet, even now, there's a new twist in his gut. One that shouldn't be there, one that he thought he got over months ago.

Keith won't leave his head. He isn't quite sure where it came from, this almost unpleasant longing chipping away at his resolve. Each time they talk, there is something subtle in the undertone; something that feels like it could spark and blaze and ruin everything Lance thought was real. Sure, he had a huge crush on Keith since he first laid eyes on him at the Garrison. Did he handle it the best way? No. He'll admit that. But as they became closer, as the war changed them in ways they never thought they could be changed, he told himself that he could be content as friends. He did it with Allura so shouldn't it be easy?

Shouldn't he be happy?

He shakes his head and lets the headphones slip, falling to rest a bit snug around his throat. When the music disappears he is left to the silence.

"This sucks, Red." Lance sighs, listening to the strange hum that comes from the lion when he tries to communicate with her, "I'm a mess. Can you tell? Is it obvious?"

"Yes."

The voice makes Lance's eyes snap open, whatever he was going to ramble about next dying in his throat. He doesn't know how he didn't hear the arrival of the fighter jet but now he's staring straight at it, floating body reflected in the silver metal.

"I thought you were asleep." Lance watches as the lights power down and the hatch opens up top, Thraine's suit glowing in purple as he climbs out.

With a strong push of his legs, Thraine soars across the distance until they're only a few short feet apart. He carries a rope split on the end and attaches one end to Lance before using the other to place on himself. He tugs, gently, until Lance gives in and grabs hold of his arm, pulling himself closer and closer. They can't take off their masks but Lance knows Thraine is looking down at him, confusion no doubt playing on his otherwise calm face.

"I noticed you weren't beside me." Thraine tilts his head and wraps an arm around Lance's waist, "The sheets were cold."

"Needed to clear my head." Lance admits, running a hand up until he can let it rest on Thraine's broad shoulder, "The ship felt a kinda suffocating."

Thraine hums, or purrs; whichever it is makes Lance smile. It's not as bright as it usual is but it's still there.

"You look upset." Thraine tilts his head, "Did someone hurt you? Did Kei-"

Lance balks, "No, of course not. No way. I just get like this sometimes."

"Like what?"

Lance isn't stupid, he knows the Marmoran has some trouble understanding things. There had been many occasions that he needed an explanation, a reason for Lance's damp lashes or sudden boisterous laughter. He assumes it's because of his status as a Blade. They were trained rigorously and almost always at a young age, the after effects of such conditions probably changing them in ways Lance can't possibly imagine. 

He sighs and leans his head forward until it rests on Thraine's chest, "I just get...sad."

"Sad." Thraine repeats the word, "About your home."

"Sometimes." Lance tries his best to explain, wanting to bite at his nails but knowing he can't with the gloves on his hands, "But sometimes I get sad and there's no reason. It's just there."

Thraine purrs, "Like you're numb. Like you need to fill something in your chest but you can't no matter how hard you try."

Lance pulls his head up, eyes raised in shock, "Yes, actually."

Thraine leans back until Lance is settled on his body, head falling once again to find comfort on his chest even if his helmet is a bit wonky and awkward. For a long while, Thraine doesn't explain or continue. Lance isn't sure whether he's searching for words in times like these or if he simply  has no need for them. Part of him wishes the Marmoran would talk more, really lay out what he's thinking so that Lance could try to figure him out, maybe ramble and get worked up over something. _Anything._

Keith's face pops into Lance's mind, the words he'd drunkenly admitted several nights ago still sitting heavily against his eyelids. He remembers the way Keith seemed to have forgotten the night altogether; forgotten the way his eyes had roamed Lance's legs and the way Lance had, probably unable to hide it, bloomed under the attention. Attention that he'd always wanted from the red paladin but never managed to receive, that he'd tried to get in any form: ridicule and banter and jokes and fights. It hits him hard, the small part of himself that admits that perhaps he _isn't_ as over Keith as he thought he was. It hits him hard and he doesn't like it, practically horrified that he could be thinking of someone else while on top of Thraine. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on the way Thraine's breathing shifts them both, trying to ignore the roll of disgust he feels at himself. 

"You mentioned your childhood once." Lance eventually murmurs, knowing he needs to hear something other than his own head. "That you don't remember much about it. Do you _want_ to remember?"

Thraine shifts, probably running the question through his mind like Pidge deals with numerical calculations.

"I used to." Thraine says, "There are memories that come to me like dreams. Almost all of them are horrid, monstrous things. But there is one that is better than than the rest."

Lance looks up, eyes wide. "A good memory?"

"Yes." Thraine looks down at him and though Lance can't see through the mask, he knows Thraine is meeting his eye in a familiar way.

A way that makes Lance feel both wonderfully important and studied, two contradictions that battle for his emotions. On one hand, there is his happiness, a sense of finality that someone could even look at him in such a way. Though, on the other hand, it makes him nervous; cautious and completely unsure.

Thraine continues, his voice in Lance's ears sending a pleasing chill down his spine. "Before I woke to the Blade of Marmora, I know for certain that the sky was a specific color. Very bright and calm. Very blue."

A flush spreads on Lance's face and Thraine pulls him closer, clawed hands pressing gently on the dip in his back.

"Oh." Lance gulps and lays his head back down.

They don't say anything else after that.

 

 

★

 

 

"Wait, what?" Hunk sits up, drink sloshing in his cup when he turns to look at Coran, "Why?"

His voice portrays all of their emotions at once: shock, unease, worry, agitation.

Coran looks only slightly apologetic, "It seems the last fight led to a slow leak within our main core engine. If this ship were a bit more advanced, I would have been able to tell almost immediately, of course, but it seems like it wanted to sneak up on us." His voice rises in pitch, "All of our fuel has been trailing behind us, escaping through a tiny crack!"

"Wait, wait, wait." Lance lifts his head from Thraine's lap and sits up on the couch, "What does this mean? Are we gonna be stranded out here or something?"

"Not if we can reach this planet." Allura brings up a luminous picture of a pretty spinning orb, "From our calculations, all conditions are hospitable and the beings appear neutral to what has happened around them. In the event that they have no means to understand our language, Pidge can find the translator's we've used in the past. "

"They're neutral to the war, you mean." Keith narrows his eyes, "Which means doing what's best for them and only them. We land, they find out who we are, we could be sold out in minutes."

Lance hates to admit it but Keith has a point, "How do we know we can trust them?"

"Perhaps it doesn't need to be about trust." Krolia suggests from her spot beside Keith, "Simply avoidance."

"So, we avoid them? Hide in the woods?" Pidge asks, completely serious.

Krolia shakes her head, "No. We just need to keep their perceptions of us far away from Voltron."

The others look at each other, confusion and contemplation sitting heavy in the air. Lance can't help but glance at Keith, the act itself a habit from Lance's time spent helping him as leader. His expression is stoic but Lance can see, just by the way his shoulders drop, that he thinks it could possibly work.

"We can say we're on a space trip." Lance looks back to Allura and then Shiro. "Cause, I mean, it's technically the truth right? We're just one big happy family exploring the safer parts of the universe and we got into an accident. Hit an asteroid belt or something."

Shiro nods but there's humor in his eyes, a subtle tilt of his lips, "It could work."

They sit in silence for a moment, knowing there's no other option even if they wish there was. They all want to get home, they all want to build a better ship and be ready for what may be coming to attack them next. But for now, they simply look at each other, seeming to come to an agreement with no need for words.

"Well," Matt eventually snickers and pushes into Romelle's shoulder, "this is one _strange_ family."

 

 

★

 

"I don't see how this will work." Lance scrunches his nose but leaves Red's cockpit anyway, unease settling in his belly. "What if they have, like, people who come up here?"

"Why would they?" Pidge asks, "There's nothing of value here. It's just a moon."

Hunk is the first outside, already having said his goodbyes to Yellow, "A boring moon."

"I think it's nice." Keith says, voice quiet.

Shiro interrupts them before they can continue, "Either way, we need to get to the surface of Bulak before the engine gives out completely. Allura just finished talking to their representatives and they're expecting us."

They hustle to the ship and climb the ramp, more than nervous about leaving the lions so far away. What if something happens and they can never get them back? What if, for some terrible reason, they can never leave the planet at all?

Lance moves to stand by the large window in front of the command bay, ignoring the coordinates and gibberish lining a holographic screen. He winces as they approach the planet and enter the atmosphere, the fiery vision always something that sticks with him a while after it's happened. He glances over to see Keith walking up and quickly looks back to the window, focusing on the sprays of gold and red and bright bursting white.

"You nervous?" Keith asks, turning to rest his hip on the console in front of them.

"Nah." Lance says, "Just excited to see what it looks like."

From the corner of his eye, Lance sees Keith glance away, focusing on something behind them. His entire body tenses, arms crossing tight over his chest.

"It shouldn't be long for us to get moving again, right?" Lance continues, spotting the first sign of clear entry. The first sight of clouds. "We offer to trade some stuff, get the fuel, get outta here. Easy."

"Super easy." Keith turns back to him but Lance still refuses to look, "With the amount of fuel we get we should be closer to Earth than ever."

Hope blooms in Lance's chest and he smiles, Keith's words needed and said just at the right time. He looks over to him and Keith smirks back, words dying in both of their throats.

An hour later, the moment they're greeted by several beings of Borak, Lance knows they won't be leaving any time soon. Almost too eager, the leaders of the species take their visit as a sign, their voices sultry and slow but very, very interested. The translator in Lance's ear works fast and he marvels at the voice, at the way he can understand them seconds after they've spoken.

"My name is Raguk. When we received your transmission, we worked with haste to welcome you. We have not had visitors for eons." A tall being says, three long fingers touching lightly to Allura's face. Lance can't help but stare at the protruding of feather's from their back, knowing that they're wings but finding the strange light shifting within them almost hypnotic. "Nor any so interesting."

"Oh." She flushes, "Thank you? That is very-"

"So, the fuel." Keith suddenly speaks up, voice cutting and impatient. "Do you have it?"

Raguk hums, the sound seeming to echo in its lithe throat, "Of course. Though it may be some time before we can harvest it. Your ship appears to run on a very specific type, yes?"

They all glance back at it before Coran nods, "It appears so."

"Very well." Raguk blinks three of six eyes, "Our planet provides spores that hold the element, though to fuse it into a working fuel takes patience. In the meantime, we offer you our very best comforts."

"We have nothing more to pay you with." Allura says, "The trade was already a hefty price-"

"Nonsense." Raguk holds out its thin blue arm, urging her to take it and smiling when she does. "This will be our pleasure."

Lance raises a brow and takes a small step closer to Thraine, knowing that if anything were to try to cause any of them harm, the Marmoran would be one of the first to see it. His gaze is careful, always catching things that others miss. The moment he moves Lance would follow suit, slipping his bayard from his bag and firing immediately to save his friends.

Looking back at them, Allura makes a face as if to say: _hurry up and follow us._

The landing port they'd settled on is feet upon feet into the air and Lance is surprised they were able to land directly on top at all. A strong wind blows fierce and he threatens to topple over, stopped only by Keith's hand on his elbow. He mumbles a thanks and continues on, looking over the edge of the port while the others board an elevator-like shaft. 

Regardless of Raguk's insistence that they were their first visitor's in years, Lance can see that it didn't stop them from thriving. Skyward buildings rise in odd shapes, as if bubbles were protruding from the sides, before giving way to limb-like sections that twist and connect to the next. They tower one after another, lights roaming and shifting through a thin layer of what he hopes is only a fine mist. Lance leans further, trying and failing to see through the strange beige air before Thraine wraps his tail around his waist.

"You need to get between us or something." Keith grumbles, pulling at Lance's arm, "Every time I look over you get closer to the edge."

"Do you see those lights?" Lance asks, turning to catch Keith's eye. "They're like, swimming around."

Thraine shifts closer but says nothing, ears twitching forward at the sound of Lance's voice.

"I'm sure we'll find out soon. Just keep going." Keith says.

"But-"

"It is simply our form of transportation." Someone new speaks up, appearing behind all three of them with ease, "The film you see works as a settling element, keeping the air solid enough for our Mecha's to travel. Long ago our planet suffered a great flood, one that never left the surface. To survive, our brightest developed this film to help us stay above that water."

"So you built _up_ instead of _out_." Lance wonders aloud, "Why not just leave? Find a new place to live?"

"Our home is not uninhabitable, simply temperamental. We must always strive to evolve _with_ it, never against it."

Lance watches as they hold out a hand, offering it to Thraine so that they could lead them to the elevator. He tries to keep back a laugh at the sight of Thraine's ears pulling back, flattening against his head in a show of distrust. If they were alone, Lance would tease him endlessly, comparing him to kittens and rabbits and everything else he hopes to show him when they get to Earth.

"Would you care to tell us more?" Lance asks, stepping forward to take Thraine's hand in his own instead, "I'm sure Keith would be _super_  interested."

Keith whips his head to Lance, eyes narrowing seconds before they grab at his hand. He makes a horrified noise but otherwise doesn't pull away, knowing it's important for them to show respect on a planet that could easily turn against them. They walk forward and the being, who Lance has come to learn is named Urzog, starts rambling about the history of the planet, three-toed feet keeping pace. Kosmo trails close behind, watching Urzog with a swish of his tail.

For the rest of the walk, Lance avoids the scathing looks Keith sends back. Fully heated glares, cheeks red with annoyance, Lance can't help but find it all very funny. It's almost relieving, the entire interaction empty of the strange tension that has settled over them every time they're around each other. The elevator is cramped when they step inside and for all intents and purposes, Lance waits for it to go down.

Instead, he has to hold back a scream.

The elevator shoots to the right, hurtling through the air with intense speed. He reaches out and squeezes Keith's arm, other hand latched tight to Thraine's hand, legs wobbly from the way the elevator takes sharp corners.

"What the hell is this?" Lance asks, breathless.

Urzog blinks all of their eyes at once, "Travel."

"This," Keith holds onto the rail beside him and steels himself against a sudden push upward, "is how you _travel? Everywhere?"_

Urzog nods, "Of course."

Lance groans and pushes down a wave of nausea, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes that it would end soon. Lights blink and flash, the clear material surrounding them useless considering everything is a whizzing blur outside. He leans his head and takes his hand from Thraine's, pushing it to his mouth, praying that he can keep down whatever food sits in his stomach.

It's rare that he gets this sick from motion. If he's feeling like this, he can only imagine how the other's dealt with poor, weak-bellied Hunk. The elevator takes much too long to come to a stop but when it does, Lance doesn't open his eyes. He swallows back bile and breathes in the shirt his forehead rests on, trying to distract himself.

"Are you alright?" Thraine asks, tail curling around Lance's ankle.

He manages a nod and after another settling moment, lifts his head. Keith is staring at him, dark eyes perplexed as the lights fade to a dim glow.

"Sorry." Lance murmurs, quickly pulling away. "I don't know why I'm reacting like this."

Urzog walks forward, their feathers shifting in strange luminous crimson, "You may be having a harsh reaction to the chemicals in our air."

"Or," He grimaces, "this elevator from _hell_ just tried to sling me back into space."

Keith lets out a bark of laughter but quickly tries to hide it, coyly turning it into a cough.

"Hell?" Urzog asks, glancing between the three of them, "I don't believe I've been to such a place. Is it lovely this time of the Qualint?"

Lance stares at him, face completely void of emotion, unsure of how he should react. But then he hears Keith laughing beside him, trying and failing to contain it and the next thing he knows he's following suit. He laughs and laughs and it only grows stronger when he hears Keith snort, trying to wipe at his eyes with a gloved hand.

All the while, Urzog and Thraine look to each other, utterly confused.

But in that moment, Lance doesn't care. The two of them laugh until the elevator opens and it only grows stronger when they see Hunk splayed on the ground outside, eyes staring up at the sky, lost in a woozy daze.

Raguk and Urzog take them to a huge tree-esque building and Lance doesn't understand that it's more like a palace until he's standing before a Borakian with a very, very tall crown. It towers well above their head and though he knows it can't possibly be floating, the glowing metals seem to spin in slow motion.

Just as willowy as the others, the being stands and towers above them, tall enough that Lance has to lean his head back to meet their gaze. Their skin is a darker shade of blue than that of Raguk's, almost purple beneath the lights and their wings look a bit threatening when they expand. Just a tad, large and long enough that if they wanted to, they could reach either end of this ginormous room. Similar to the beings on the planet of Fyix, there is a sense of royalty and power flowing from the shimmering robes on their body, from the way their hair falls past their sharp shoulders when they look down at the Paladin's. 

Urzog and Raguk bow, just once, before introducing them.

"Welcome. My name is Kona." The being says, voice as sultry and soft as the others. The crown shifts when Kona blinks, three eyes on either side of their face moving as one. "Though I rule the kingdom of Vrothu, it is an honor to grant you refuge. I was informed that your ship has run out of fuel."

"Thank you." Allura smiles but Lance can see that it's cautious, "Unfortunately, we managed to get clipped when navigating through a sudden asteroid belt. Funny enough, it's as though it appeared out of nowhere."

"May I ask where it is you're journeying to?" 

Allura's face falls by an inch and Shiro quickly answers, no doubt just as shocked by the huge being as the rest of them, "We've decided to travel through the safest quadrants of the universe, to explore and meet peaceful civilizations. The war-"

"Has been a distant thing here. You have no need to worry." Kona sits back down, golden-lit wings folding impressively behind their back, "We've prided ourselves on remaining elusive to such things. Keeping to our planet, we have had no need to venture like you. It has kept us safe."

"You _never_ leave this planet?" Allura asks, shocked. "You have no ships?"

Kona narrows their eyes and Lance's fingers twitch toward his bag, watching as they study Allura with what could only be sudden suspicion. 

After another moment, however, they relax back into their chair, "We do. Though they aren't needed so we've kept them locked away."

"Aren't you worried about invasion?" Keith suddenly asks, "A planet that hides away will always be found. And if you don't protect yourselves, you need to have ships ready if you need to evacuate your people-"

"You all must be quite tired." Kona snaps and it echoes, losing a semblance of the once serene tone. It makes Lance's hair stand on end but Kona settles soon after, "Enough talk of this silly war. Your rooms are being prepared and you're welcome to rest. Though it would be _wonderful_ for all of you to join us later in feast."

"Food?" Pidge asks the moment Hunk perks up, all disinterest melting away.

Kona smiles, lips curling back to show very blunt teeth. "Of course."

 

 

★

 

 

"They're going to eat us." Lance fiddles with his new clothes, staring at himself in an intricate mirror, "We're gonna be the food, aren't we? Did you see their teeth? Not even sharp, man! That's gonna hurt-"

"They're not going to eat us." Hunk rolls his eyes, "Chill out, Lance."

"You? Telling me to chill? Shouldn't you be the one freaking out right now?"

Hunk slips on his sandals, the likes of which he already hates, and nods before lacing the silver material up his calf. "Exactly. And I'm _not f_ reaking out _,_  so that's a big enough clue that we aren't about to be eaten. Sure, they're strange. And huge. And kinda scary, like those stories about angels, you know? Like if they would have appeared on Earth, we would have died of fright. But I don't think they want to eat us."

Lance scowls and tries to pull the dark red slip back up his arm, the thin material refusing to settle on his shoulder. The Borakians had left all of them with clothes and to Lance's delight, a large amount of jewelry.

 _I'm afraid we need to wear what they've gifted us._ Allura had whispered to him before she left to follow Romelle to their own room, _No matter how ridiculous it may look._

But now, other than the refusal of the sleeve's cooperation, Lance finds that he can't really complain. As a child, his sister Veronica had dressed him up almost every other day, content to curl his hair and place their mother's pretty sparkling earrings in his pierced ears.

Picking up a pair now, he feels nostalgic at the thought.

"What do you think?" He turns and holds up a pair in each hand for Hunk to see, "Silver or gold?"

Hunk purses his lips and narrows his eyes, seeming to take the consideration very seriously. He glances at Lance's face and down at his red garb, repeating the motion twice before giving a solid nod. "Definitely gold."

Lance beams and hurries to put a hoop in either ear, eyeing his attire with a critical eye. The flowing material is comfortable and light, brushing on his skin like silk. But it's also slightly transparent, resulting in the shrouded view of his entire chest. His pants are dark and lined with something very soft, though they sit tight around his mid-calf. The rest billows at his thighs, a bit strange but comfortable nonetheless. 

"I kinda look like a vampire." He mumbles, glancing down at his belly button. "Should I put something there?"

He points and Hunk looks from behind, face reflected in the mirror. "Wouldn't that be closed by now?"

Lance shrugs, "Guess we're gonna find out."

He sifts through the pile of jewels and chains and studs and brooches. Gems unlike those he'd ever seen glint with their own light, some twirling in the center like loose smoke. He grabs a dainty golden stud, eyeing the pretty blue crystal inside of a shape similar to the sun, watching as the light shifts in minuscule fractal patterns. With a smile, he raises his shirt and searches for the pierced skin, secretly praying that it's still there.

It takes a bit of a push but he lets out a victory shout when it slides through, the clasp much easier to close than any he'd worn before. It sits comfortably and he turns in the mirror, this way and that, until he's satisfied with his reflection.

"You ready to go now?" Hunk is already walking toward the door, his own shirt translucent and sitting on his broad back in pretty shades of silver, "As much as I'm looking forward to this feast, I kinda just wanna get it over with."

Lance laughs and follows him out of the room, blinking at the change in light. Whereas the bedroom had an almost natural glow, like that of the morning sun, the hallways are definitely dimmer. Lance can't help but think they're walking through a huge tree, the walls twisting around the way roots travel in the ground. It's all thickly corded and solid and he gasps, not for the first time, when a pod of buzzing blue lights travel past his head.

 _Insects?_   He guesses, though he's yet to see them land. They simply light up the path before turning a corner or, he's come to notice, sinking into the bark-like walls. 

He and Hunk walk forward, lost in conversation but Lance still looks for any sign of Thraine. He wonders if he'd already gone ahead, probably more hungry than any of them put together. His species, he's mentioned to Lance before, require large portions to regulate their blood. Lance had no idea what that meant, if he were being honest, but-

A door opens at the end of the hall and he perks up, wondering if Thraine had stayed behind after all. But it's not Thraine that walks through the door and Lance suddenly wants nothing more than to turn around. To force Hunk to find a different way to the feast, to act cowardly and immature. Instead, he watches as Keith messes with his own collar, trying and failing to keep it closer to his neck before the silky black material falls back to the middle of his chest. As if he'd run into a wall, Lance stops dead in his tracks. His throat closes up and his mouth dries, stomach stinging when he realizes Keith's hair is pulled back into a partial bun.

"You okay?" Hunk stops and turns to look at him, brows raised.

Keith finally notices them and Lance realizes he must look ridiculous standing here like this. But even as Keith meets his eye, even as Lance continues to humiliate himself, he knows that he needs to get it together. To push through his traitorous thoughts, to maybe let them pass and disappear like he thought they had only a few short weeks ago.

"I'm fine." Lance finally forces himself to say, quickly striding forward in hopes that he can play this off coolly, "Just hungry."

When he reaches Keith the boy says something to him but Lance doesn't stop, not until he's brushing past his shoulder, using his long legs to leave them both behind. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> agh, this was kind of a transition chapter and the next bunch will all take place on Borak, where tensions are just gonna rise and rise until the unavoidable snap >:) I LOVE the idea of people stuck on an alien planet, exploring its culture and *cough* falling in love *cough.* Lance is really torn up over all of this, even if he thinks it's just him projecting his old crush back onto Keith. They're both so clueless and I love them.
> 
> That being said, sorry if this was a bit boring to read, the entire time I was writing I was doubting myself and I hope that didn't reflect in this chapter :\ I hope you enjoyed. As always, thank you for your comments and kudos and support. 
> 
> See you next update <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, sorry in advance for any mistakes! Enjoy!

 

* * *

 

 

 _I’ll walk where my own nature would be leading:_  
_It vexes me to choose another guide:_  
_Where the grey flocks in ferny glens are feeding;_  
_Where the wild wind blows on the mountain side._  
  
_-Emily Brontë_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

As far as feasts are concerned, Keith can't deny that this is one of the best. 

After a quick scan of the food, Coran deemed it safe for consumption and they all dug in. Meats, varying in color and shape, were spread out on the long table for the taking. Paired with spicy fruits and strange, weirdly soft soups, the feast filled their bellies as if they had been starved.

Keith gulps down a tasty drink and chuckles at Shiro, loving the way his eyes light up when Matt eagerly pushes more food onto his plate. Winged Borakians watch them and ask questions, eager to learn about their ventures through the cosmos.

Regardless of Keith's antsy feelings, of his caution and distrust, he can't deny that he enjoys seeing the rest of the team so relaxed. Even his mom is leaning back in her seat, smiling at Pidge and Hunk, watching the way they bicker over a foreign ingredient. Music plays but Keith can't find the source no matter how many times he takes a look around. It's a trickle of sound, airy as a flute but a few pitches lower.

The dining hall is spacious and the ceilings amazingly tall, material like corded wood rising from the ground with density. Tiny lights travel all around, splaying colors across their faces though none of the others really seem to notice. Keith's eyes find a pod and he watches them travel between raised dishes and large chalice's, the green light casting shadows across the white table. They stop for a moment in front of Romelle and, beside her, Lance.

Keith can't count the amount of times he's looked at him. Every few minutes his eyes are sliding back, traveling the length of his brown throat and the curve of his ears. He notices the golden hoops and the way his shirt slides down a shoulder, arm falling back to the table after having pointed an accusing finger at Coran. He laughs, loud enough to travel to Keith's spot on the opposite side, before bringing his own chalice to his lips. Keith watches the way the dark blue liquid coats his lips, the way his tongue trails to keep drops from falling.

Someone's utensil clatters and Keith jumps, snapping his eyes away with an embarrassed clearing of his throat. Looking to the left of Lance, he's not surprised to see Thraine looking back. The Marmoran hadn't made it a secret that he's been watching Keith. And while Keith doesn't think it's particularly threatening, he still finds it unnerving enough to not like it. His large eyes blink once before he looks back to his food, ears twitching atop his head.

Keith scowls and stabs his fork-like object into a soft piece of meat, noticing the way some kind of liquid seeps from the sides. He chews in contemplation, reflecting on the lions before searching for Black in his head-space, feeling the sturdy presence almost immediately. It settles him but it still doesn't keep the thoughts away. Not when they bother him so much.

Looking up, he snaps his eyes back to Thraine and he holds them there. He remembers the way the Marmoran had been watching him on the ship, the way Keith had turned and froze beneath his gaze. He wonders if Thraine suspects something. If he feels threatened by Keith and if, maybe, he should do something about it. Aren't Galran's territorial? Over protective? Keith knows he is, even if it's on a lesser scale.

There's no denying the slow traveling crack in his ability to hide what he's feeling. Once, he'd been perfect at it. Anger would morph his face but never that of loneliness or inadequacy let alone anything close to yearning. Now, he's worried everyone in the room can tell. There's paranoia at the edge of his psyche, whispering over and over: _you've already said too much._

His drunken rambles haunt him and each time he recalls the expanse of Lance's bare thigh, or the way he'd stayed with Keith until he'd gone to sleep, won't leave him no matter how hard he tries to forget. However, he also knows that Lance would never betray someone's trust in the way Keith imagines. If there's anything he is, it's loyal. A good person through and through.

But Keith?

Well, he's not too sure.

He wants nothing more than to be selfish. To grab at Lance's hand and to pull him away, to finally speak a truth he should have admitted long ago.

But looking back up, he catches Lance's eye for a fleeting moment and knows that it's impossible.

Lance is happy and Keith will never do anything to betray that.

"Where did you get such a scar?"

The question shakes Keith from his thoughts and he looks to the Borakian in front of him, noticing the way their eyes rest at his jawline.

Keith clears his throat, "Hmm?"

"That scar." The Borakian points one of their three digits at his face, "It looks quite painful."

"Yeah. It was." It takes Keith a moment to realize he still didn't answer the initial question. With haste, he puts his drink down and wipes at his mouth, "I got into a fight."

That's not against the rules, is it? He could tell partial truths, right?

"A fight!" The Borakian gushes, all six of their eyes opening wide. "It must have been brutal."

He nods, "Yeah. But, uh, it was all a...a big misunderstanding."

"Was it with someone here?"

"No." Now, Keith does lie.

Because that is, quite frankly, none of their damn business.

"You must fight quite well if you have a scar like that and lived to tell the tale." The Borakian smiles and pushes a thickly corded tress of red hair behind their shoulder, "I am Lumria."

"Keith."

The Borakian glances to their left before leaning forward, as if trying to keep what they whisper next a very secure secret, "Why do you stare at that boy so much if you aren't mated?"

The question makes Keith choke on his drink, a loud noise that gains way too much attention. He dips his head and coughs into his hand, waving off Shiro's concern. The liquid stings his throat and he wipes at his eyes, praying to the entire universe that Lumria's question hadn't reached certain ears.

"What?" He whispers vehemently, cheeks feeling much too hot.

Lumria eyes him with both concern and open curiosity. They lean forward again, threatening to spill an entire bowl of dark soup onto the white stone table, "You must have mated with him in the past-"

"No." Keith scowls, "Stop. That's not- I don't even know what that means. And it's none of your business."

"Taking your reaction into account, I would say you wish to mate with him-"

All of a sudden, Keith pushes his chair away from the table with a humiliating screech. The room goes a bit quiet but he's breathing much too fast, blushing way too hard, to actually give a shit. Lumria's eyes blink in disorder but Keith doesn't know what to say in the following silence. He simply turns on his heel and ignores the whispers; the shock spread on almost everyone's face. He ignores the way Thraine's head tilts, the way Lance stands, mouth open as if he wanted to call out to him.

Keith leaves the feast hall with a hand ripping aside the ornamental entryway. A hanging mess of silks and glittering jewels are left swaying behind him.

 

 

★

 

 

The first thing Keith realizes upon waking the next day is that he never meant to fall asleep at all. He'd washed off in a strange cubicle room, hissing at the cold spray of water before realizing he had to press down on a small lever to make it warm. It was a short shower and he'd tried hard not to think about what had happened; had tried even harder to keep all thoughts of Lance away completely. But the red of his shirt flashed in his mind and the expanse of his throat, his thigh, his entire _being_ pushed through all of Keith's reservations like flood water.

He'd gasped into the spray, finding pleasure while at the same time, feeling immense guilt. It wasn't the first time he'd done something like that but it was the first time that he felt his eyes water afterword. For the next few hours, he'd stayed on his bed still as a statue. He listened to people come and go, doors opening and closing, laughter echoing before fading behind thick walls.

He's the only one who got a room to himself.

Now, he wakes with a small headache, eyes peeling open to a light so bright it threatens to send him back beneath the thin sheets. They're extremely comfortable, most likely stuffed full of silky feathers but he can already feel the ache spreading in his lower back. No matter how much he enjoys the soft expanse of the bed, he knows that his body is used to resting on rougher terrain. He is used to cold ships and dirty ground.

With a soft sigh, he forces himself out of bed and wanders to the bathroom, quickly freshening up before he encounters the day ahead. He adorns an outfit similar to the one he was forced to wear last night, finding that his own clothes had been taken somewhere else.

When he opens the door, he lets out an embarrassingly silly noise.

Lumria is waiting, their face inches from his own. They're bent down, hand raised as if they were going to knock, the feathers on their back ruffled in pretty shades of green.

"The fu-"

"I wish to express my apologies." Lumria interrupts, pulling back to give Keith some breathing room. "Unknowingly, I must have overstepped cultural boundaries. My people are open to talks of... _mating_." They whisper the last part, eyes glancing around.

Keith flushes, "It's fine."

"Would you like me to apologize to the other one as well? I should not have spoken of such things without his permission." Lumria asks, already taking a step toward the direction of Lance's room.

"No!" Keith shouts, immediately lowering his voice in the wake of the echo, "No, don't. He probably didn't even hear you so it'd be pointless to bring it up."

Lumria looks unconvinced. Though, in the end, they don't push.

"Well, would you like to come with me to the stables? After you left last night your friend Shee-ro spoke of your love to fly."

The words make Keith perk up, "Fly?"

At his question, Lumria just smiles.

 

 

★

 

 

"This isn't really what I expected." Keith raises a brow at the huffing animals before him, smelling something familiar on the air. 

On earth, stables always had a very particular smell. He remembers visiting a farm with his dad, several months before the blaze that took him away. Unlike horses, these creatures are ginormous but lithe, scaled flesh glinting beneath the hazy sun in colors of copper and crimson and gold. They sniff at him with long snouts, faces void of any other feature.

"Are they blind?" He asks, turning to watch Lumria prepare what he can only assume are saddles.

"Indeed." They grin, blunt teeth stretching their lips wide. "But they are excellent in the sky. There is no need for sight when you can smell the world around you."

Keith looks back to the closest one, eyeing it like one would a rattle snake. The creature leans over the stall door, snout brushing Keith's arm with sharp sniffs. He holds still, knowing it's best to remain nonthreatening. 

"She's a very good choice." Lumria says, coming to stand beside him.

"Yeah?" Keith raises his arm, letting the creature sniff harder, "I didn't really pick her, though."

"She likes you. Her name is Takra."

Keith nods, "Takra."

The creature shifts, hooved feet stomping on the ground.

"Oh, she _really_ likes you!" Lumria laughs, "Though I am glad you didn't bring that other pet of yours. It would have made Takra skittish."

"Kosmo wouldn't hurt a fly." Keith lies.

Lumria opens the stall and slides through, running a hand along the length of Takra's neck, "They are called Shlisya, souls of the air. Older than most other beings on our planet. Older than us, even."

Takra leans into Lumria's palm, nostril's flaring when the saddle is placed on her back. Small spikes rise along her spine but they stop short of the saddle, the likes of which seems to mold into her body. Keith worries for a fleeting moment that it's hurting the creature but then its wings are rising, covered in leather and full of high energy.

"They kind of look like dragons." Keith muses, mind immediately flashing to Lance and his silly rambles on the planet of Fyix.

_Dragons were totally real. And not just in the Lord of the Rings._

"Drahgoons?" Lumria asks.

Keith smirks, "Scaled lizards with wings. They were never proven to exist but my people loved to make up stories about them. Some of the stories lasted centuries."

"Perhaps they _were_ real, then. Legends always have a bit of truth to them." Lumria pulls taught on a rope and motions for Keith to back up.

Keith smirks, "Yeah, maybe."

They walk toward a ramp leading further up, though they're already very high. High enough that if Keith were to reach his fingers skyward, he swears he could feel the mist beneath his fingertips. Beneath them, the city is waking from the night, noises rising and falling against the wind.

"When you take off, be sure to feel only trust in Takra. Trust is the key." Lumria explains, passing Keith the end of the rope. "If she feels that you are overly fearful, she will bring you back and possibly stomp at your toes. And eat you."

"Oh. _Great_." Keith reaches a hesitant hand toward Takra, already feeling a spike of adrenaline rush through his blood.

Takra's wings rustle and she leans toward him, bending her scaly head toward his palm.

"Wonderful!" Lumria gushes, "It appears she is drawn to your scent already!"

Lumria shows him the basics, like how tightly to clench his thighs and where to places his hands with each dip or rise in the air. She retrieves her own Shlisya before urging Keith to climb onto Takra's back, the wind ruffling their long hair. Keith puts a sandaled foot into a stirrup and heaves himself over, finding it much easier to settle into the saddle than he thought it would be.

Takra shifts her feet toward the edge of the platform, crimson scales seeming to undulate with each roll strong muscle. Keith tightens his grip on the reigns and clenches his thighs, looking down at the view. Thousands of miles below, through the traffic and bustle of life, he spots the water. And with no other warning than a whistle from Lumria, the Shlisya dives.

Wind bursts into Keith's face and he gasps at the feel of it, hair whipping away from his face. The air is warm and he grins into it, leaning forward to placate the intense drop. They soar along the exterior of the huge tower of stables, passing bubbled windows and strange mechanical vehicles, tearing through the beige air as if it were nothing. And then they are surging back up, taking a sharp turn before twirling in fast loops. They fly away from the city, the flap of Takra's wings loud in his ears.

He places a hand on a spike to steady himself and blinks away the wet of his eyes, noticing for the first time that the polluted looking air doesn't go on forever. There is light ahead, brighter and clearer than any he's seen yet. They fly toward it and he glances back only once, seeing Lumria following close behind. Their wings are strapped down but Keith doesn't have time to wonder why they didn't just take to the air themselves. One moment he sees nothing and then, with a burst of Takra through the clouds, he sees  _everything._

When they said that their world had been flooded, Keith expected an endless horizon of water. He imagined an ocean and the way it always seems infinite from the shore, the way the sun would dip behind it and leave the waves to the dark. But looking at the world now, he can't help but stare with eyes gone wide.

Mountains rise one after another, waterfalls of silver and gold spread between what appears to be dense forests. Water rests far below but it seems that it couldn't reach the top; that the mountains refuse to drown. Takra takes him close and he hears the rush of the water, smells something sweet and spicy on the air, feels the way it has cleared of whatever chemically induced material they use for the city.

They fly between the small openings of the mountains, soaring along ridges and caves and once, right through one of the glimmering waterfalls. It's refreshing and he can't help but laugh, a sound that startles from his lips. Like the first time he'd piloted Red, all else in the universe falls away. It is just him and the sky, the open expanse of a world that has been left to grow as it will. 

He feels, for the first time in months, utterly free.

 

 

★

 

 

Running through the hallways of the palace leaves Keith a tad breathless. His lungs had been whipped by the wind and his throat is sore but he doesn't really mind, not when his heart is still beating one thousand miles a minute. He takes several staircases two at a time and has to backtrack more than once, eyes catching on empty rooms and hovering lights.

But, finally, he rounds a corner and sees many familiar faces.

Immediately, Krolia rises from her seat, concern apparent on her face. She strides toward Keith and grabs at his arms, turning him every which way in search of injuries.

"I'm fine." Keith breathes, "Nothing happened-"

"Lance went to your room when you didn't come to breakfast." She narrows her eyes, no doubt seeing the way Keith's next words die in his throat, "We were planning to search for you."

"I told you he was alright!" Pidge calls out behind them.

Krolia stares at him for another minute before backing away, displeasure falling from her face with each step. The others are spread around on pillows, trays of food and drink settled between them. The same airy music from last night flows through the air and he sniffs at the smoke rising from small golden objects, each spin of a dial releasing a puff of the pleasant aroma. Keith reaches for a chalice and downs it in three gulps, ignoring the bemused expression on Shiro's face.

"You look like you got dipped in glitter glue." Lance says and Keith opens his eyes to find him staring up, eyes roaming his body in a slow travel, "What the hell happened?"

"Uh, there was a garden. With flowers." He brings a hand to the back of his neck, not really knowing why he isn't telling them about Takra or the mountains. "I ran into a bush."

Hunk snorts a laugh but Keith can't take his eyes from Lance, from the way he practically glares.

"What?"

Lance shrugs and looks away, "Nothing."

" _Well_ , while you were tripping into aliens plants, Allura and Coran spoke to the leader of the excursion for our fuel. It'll take a while for them to get there and come back so we might as well get comfortable." Pidge snickers, "Though I guess that isn't as exciting as a _garden_ -"

"Yeah, sure. It's very funny." Keith interrupts with a roll of his eyes, already deciding to find his way out of the room.

Under Lance's stare, a shower is starting to seem like a really good idea.

None of them stop him from leaving.

 

 

★

 

 

Keith gets out of the shower to the sound of banging on his door. He immediately reaches for his blade, instincts making him tense and overly alert. His towel sits low on his hips but he doesn't care to pull it up, knowing he has no time to slide on his clothes if there will be some sort of fight. 

The banging comes again and he feels a burst of annoyance, the thought of some Borakian trying to scare him, or attack him, lighting a fire under his feet. He strides to the door and yanks it open, a growl already forming on his lips.

Brown hands push at his bare chest and he fumbles back into the room, breath stuttering in his lungs.

_"Lance?"_

"Hush." Lance whispers, ear pressed to the door.

He waits, hand holding onto the doorknob with the intent to lock it. When he does, it's almost too loud in the space between them. He whips around and the look on his face is full of accusation, as if Keith had done something to personally offend him.

"What's your problem?" Keith asks, finally grabbing hold of his towel.

Lance glances down but immediately brings his eyes back up, cheeks growing in color. "What's _your_ problem? You disappear last night and again this morning only to show up, hours after we've already considered you kidnapped, covered in some kind of celestial glitter?"

"I-"

"Spill." Lance huffs and moves to sit on Keith's bed, arms crossing. _"Now."_

And suddenly, it is clear why Keith didn't tell everyone about his flight. There's no doubt in his mind that he wants Lance to know first. Or, to be more precise, he wants _only_ Lance to know. Much like their talks on the observation deck, Keith wants this new discovery to be kept between them. He desires for it to be their own little secret.

"They have dragons."

The look on Lance's face is one that Keith has come to identify as ' _you've got to be fucking kidding me.'_

"Dragons."

Keith nods, "Yeah."

"Like, Middle Earth dragons. _Smaug_ dragons."

"Well, not exactly." Keith bites at his lips, "Kinda? I mean, they're smaller than Smaug but they're still really huge. And they fly fast. _Really_ fast."

Lance stands and Keith takes a step back, suddenly reminded of his state of undress.

"You're telling me you found _dragons_ and you rode one and you got covered in glitter," He raises his hands into the air, golden bangles clinking together at his wrists, "and you didn't tell me sooner?"

"I'm telling you now. I...I wanted you to know before anyone else." Keith admits, noticing the way something flares in Lance's eyes.

The blue turns to brilliant aqua, alight with that familiar wild spark that Keith has come to adore. And then he is grinning, a full blown smile that threatens to snatch all of the breath from Keith's lungs, before grabbing at his hand. He tugs him forward and opens the door until they're spilling into the hallway. And for a short moment, Keith wonders if Lance has forgone all of his morals. If he'd actually heard what Lumria said last night and decided, much to Keith's desperate hope, to act upon it.

Instead, he gives a feral little laugh and urges Keith to lead the way. The sound travels all over Keith before settling in his belly, churning and fluttering and aching.

"Well, c'mon then." Lance says, "I've gotta see this!"

 _"Wait!"_ Keith whispers, thrust from his daze at the feel of cool air on his chest, remembering almost violently that he's wearing nothing but a rather silky towel.  

He pulls Lance back into the room and slams the door, leaving the hall silent in their wake. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait! Life has been kinda messy and I'm dealing with my own feelings for a certain guy and my gay heart is overwhelmed lol.
> 
> Anyway, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter, I keep thinking that i'm making this slow burn waaay too slow but then again, I really don't want to rush it. I left this on a bit of a cliffhanger simply because a new POV will take place in the next chapter. Also, I really love Lumria and I've been planning for them to become a kind of friend to Keith so I hope you all like them too! 
> 
> Thank you for being patient <3 I plan to write and edit a ton this weekend, so there should be one or two more chapters up by Sunday :) 
> 
> Come hang out with me on my tumblr @ [starshinebf](https://starshinebf.tumblr.com/)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes I'll be finishing up a chapter and editing and look at the time only to realize I've literally been working on it for like, five hours lmao. Still, sorry for any mistakes I didn't manage to catch and correct. 
> 
> Enjoy!

* * *

 

 

_"...and there had been war, and that thing (my soul) was a lost star or a lost boat / adrift."_

_-H.D._

 

* * *

 

 

 

  
Shiro is a kaleidoscope of memories.  
  
Being dead had never been this rough. He watches his team laughing among the pillows and he smiles, feeling an overwhelming sense of peace wash over him. But at the same time, in the back of his mind, he readies himself for a fight that may never come. His fingers twitch with the need to hold a weapon while his eyes blink in soft motion, hooded from a night spent utterly restless.

For all intents and purposes, most of the time he thinks that he's doing better. Unlike the first few months of travel, his periods of discombobulation have decreased dramatically. Where once he was locked outside of his body and left to wade through a haze of white noise and blurry vision, now he can latch onto something; he has figured out how to keep from floating away.

Yet, he still has to place his hand beneath his thigh, desperate to stop the way it shakes.

Allura glances at him, concern forming a crease between her brows. They share a knowing look and Shiro feels a wave of warmth wash over him, their connection only having grown stronger by the day.

 _I believe it is our shared quintessence._ Allura said to him one night, the quiet hum of the ship surrounding them as the others caught up on much needed sleep. _When I transferred your soul to your new body, we melded. Similar to that of the lions, I think we now hold a special bond._

Shiro had watched the stars pass by, understanding clicking into place like the piece of an intricate puzzle.

 _You can sometimes feel what I feel._ He finally spoke his worries aloud, _I'm sorry about that._

She'd looked baffled, completely thrown off.

_Never apologize for this, Shiro. Just like Keith, I am more than ready to help you carry your burdens._

Now, he simply nods and picks up another slice of translucent fruit, eager to busy himself. She studies him for another moment before turning back to her conversation with Romelle and Hunk. But Shiro can see the way she glances at him from her peripheral; the way she extends more peace, waiting for him to grab on.

Regardless of the team's unyielding support, of Allura's empathetic projections and Keith's quiet comforts, Shiro knows there are things he must deal with alone. He has always prided himself on being a stable home for those in need of one. A pillar, sturdy throughout a life that could otherwise be tumultuous and unfair.

He reminds himself that it's okay to feel at full capacity. To let it out after days of a terrifying numbness, whether it be in the form of tears or the wringing of his hands or the punching of a sturdy bag, breath coming and going as if he were stuck beneath water.

He feels the void in his dreams. That infinite space, huddled safe within Black's mechanic consciousness. It was safe there but it could never be a permanent resting place. Maybe throughout everything, as he watched over the team in flashes of vision, he always knew that he would one day return to them. It was a surefire feeling, one that kept him sane when all else seemed to threaten his sanctuary.

Yet, he still isn't so sure about his return to Adam.

The boy had been a sudden explosion, casting Shiro into radiant light. They met in a training session during his second year at the Garrison and later found out they were to be roommates. But Shiro remained oblivious for months, unseeing of the way Adam would watch him come and go.

He remembers the way Adam had smiled at him on a particularly quiet night, taking him completely off guard because he'd never seen one of those smiles directed at _him._

 _It's actually pouring outside, Takashi._ Adam had whispered against the thunder, the lights flickering before a backup generator took over.  _Can you believe it? It never rains here._

Lightning flashed moments later and it lit Adam's entire face, bringing it into sudden focus. They sat on the floor against Shiro's bed, socks sliding on their feet to keep the cold tile from sending chill bumps on their skin. Shiro smiled at the sight, finding it charming; comforting on a night that he'd normally feel very alone.

Shiro looked over at him and caught his smile again, face heating with strong bouts of intensity. The next thing he knew, they were leaning closer, giving each other enough time to pull away if that's what they truly wanted.  

Neither did.

But this memory is always paired with one that stabs into his guts. He can still smell Adam's tea, can still hear the way his voice was strong with conviction. He was desperate and at a loss, scared beyond belief that Shiro would never return to him.

Now, Shiro supposes his fear was well-founded. 

"I'll be right back."

Shiro looks up at the sound of Lance's voice, effectively pulled out his thoughts. He notices the way Thraine takes a moment to remove his tail from Lance's waist, the appendage falling back onto the pillow beside him. They both watch Lance walk across the room, blue eyes shifting to find Hunk's for only a second before he leaves entirely. Shiro expects Thraine to follow just as he has so many times before. But the Marmoran simply lowers his gaze, sharp teeth ripping at a piece of food before he nods at something Pidge asks him.

Never one to pry for the sake of easing his own curiosity, Shiro debates leaving well enough alone. But then Thraine is shifting his eyes to stare at the door, ears pushed flat against his head; tail whipping against the ground in sharp, threatening pats.

Shiro immediately stands, knowing that if Lance is in some kind of danger, he'd like to be one of the first to know.

He enters the hall with quiet steps, watching as Lance turns the corner ahead. Speeding up, Shiro controls his breathing so that he isn't huffing into the silence. But Lance is fast and clearly on some kind of mission because with the next turn he is nowhere to be found. Up ahead, several Borakians enter the long hall, their voices soft and reflective. Shiro debates turning, knowing he could very well be overreacting.

But thoughts of Lance in danger, of the boy  _hurt_ when Shiro could have done something to prevent it, turns his nerves to steel. He quickly walks up to the Borakians and asks if they'd seen him pass by. They point to the left and Shiro nods in thanks, not bothering to explain his haste. When he finds himself in a familiar corridor, he wonders if Lance simply wanted to be alone. If maybe he and Thraine had a disagreement, though not to the extent that Shiro feared. With a sigh, he runs a hand down his tired face and makes to leave.

But then a loud noise escapes through a door and Lance's voice follows, pitched high enough to float into the hallway. Shiro reaches for his belt, knowing his blaster can do intense damage to almost any being; let alone one with wings. He slides behind a column, urging himself to maintain a clear head.

The last thing he needs is to flip the switch; to let loose a torrent of fire without any true reason to do so.

"Well, c'mon then." Lance says as he emerges in the foyer, "I've gotta see this!"

Shiro's brows shoot toward his hairline at the sight of Keith, his eyes wide and sparkling in emotions Shiro suddenly knows all to well. There is adoration and something extremely tender, a desperate longing that no doubt threatens to tear him to pieces. Thinking back, Shiro knew Keith was acting strange. Covered in sparkling gold was one thing, but the way he's been looking at Lance continues to be something _entirely_ different.

He thinks of the short conversation they had weeks ago, when Shiro had seen the way Keith glared in Thraine's direction.

_I just...don't trust him._

"Wait!" Keith whisper-shouts, suddenly glancing down at his bare chest.

He pulls Lance back into the room, voices once again muffled and hidden away. Shiro spins in his spot and leans against the column, breath halted in his lungs.

 

 

★

 

 

"Do you think Keith and Lance have been acting strange?" Shiro asks, watching as Pidge and Hunk tinker with bulky equipment.

They've been working with several Borakians to set up some form of communication device, eager to test it out when the party goes to retrieve the compound meant for fuel. Other than their towering city and strange mecha vehicles, the Borakian's actual technological developments are pretty dated compared to the rest of the universe. Shiro found that it was pure luck, almost all chance, that Allura managed to secure a strong signal with them at all.

Hunk rubs at his cheek, smearing a bit of metal grease onto his skin. "What do you mean?" He asks, finally looking away from the twist of wires.

Shiro winces, knowing he shouldn't bring it up until he's at least talked to Keith first.

But as it turns out, neither he nor Lance are anywhere to be found.

"Have you maybe noticed anything different? In general?"

Pidge flicks a thick tress of hair away from her eyes, "Well, I can't speak for Lance considering he's almost _always_ with Thraine. But Keith does seem sorta on edge. More than usual, anyway."

"Huh?" Hunk asks, leaning over to grab some kind of wrench.

She pushes his arm out of her way before typing a new line of code, "He told me a while ago that he doesn't trust Thraine. I'm thinkin' maybe he's worried about Lance."

"Wait, _should_ we be?" Hunk immediately puts his tool down, concern making his thick brows furrow. He lowers his voice and glances around, checking to make sure they're completely alone. "Is something going on with them?"

"No." Shiro puts a stop to that train of thought very fast, "I'm just being a bit protective, I guess. It's...it's difficult for me to not worry since-"

He trails off, knowing they understand what he means.

Since his death. Since he'd been almost entirely incapable of helping them; useless from his position beyond life. 

"Look, regardless of Lance's love-struck nonsense," Pidge snickers, the teasing fond and familiar, "he's smart. If Thraine did something to him, he'd let us know. Or handle it himself."

Hunk nods but glances at Shiro anyway, waiting for his response.

Shiro schools his features, making sure to let a smile fall across his lips. "Of course."

They go back to their work but Shiro decides to stay with them, more than content to listen to the clank of metal and typing of keys. They have moments of energetic epiphanies, usually in the form of loud whoops and the slap of a quick high five. He takes a seat and stretches his legs, letting his head fall back against the wall. There is nothing Shiro enjoys more than simply resting around his team; his family.

Plus, if he were to leave now, he knows he'd try to hunt the two boys down.

So it's best that he just sits.

 

 

★

 

 

 

**Lance:**

 

 

"Do you remember that old movie, the one full of cars and planes that morphed into robots?"

Keith turns his head in the grass and folds his arms beneath his mop of black hair, "Nope."

"Oh, c'mon man! They were like, _huge_ when my grandma was our age!"

"Sorry, still no."

Lance groans and throws another little berry into the air, leaning back to catch it in his mouth. It's a burst of flavor, sharp on his tongue. Almost spicy, though he definitely won't complain about that.

 _"Well,"_ He tosses one toward Keith and grins when the boy catches it in his mouth with ease, "I totally just had a Bumblebee moment. In the movie they say something like, _you don't choose the car. The car chooses you-"_

"But you didn't choose a car."

Lance rolls his eyes and fucks up the next throw on purpose, watching as it bounces off of Keith's forehead.

"It's the fact of the matter. It's kinda like how the lions chose us in the beginning. Only now it's me and Karfu. We were meant to be."

Keith scoffs and turns his face away, trying and failing to hide his smile. Lance stares at it, at the way his deep scar shifts against the motion.

And then Lance is forcing his gaze to their surroundings, feeling that traitorous flutter once again taking root in his solar plexus. Earlier, when he'd confronted Keith and saw that he was almost _naked_ , there was a frightful moment that he swore his body would act on its own. He wanted nothing more than to pounce, to feel Keith's skin in a way he'd only been able to daydream about for years.

 _Get over him already._ Lance scolds himself,  _You're an idiot for letting yourself feel like this again._

"We'll have to watch that movie." Keith eventually says, pulling Lance away from his thoughts, "When we get back to earth."

"Yeah?"

Keith looks over at him then, wincing a bit at the sunlight breaking through the clouds, "Yeah."

With a sigh, Lance falls onto his back beside him and nuzzles into the warm mountainside. Down a stable slope, the Shlisya sleep soundly, their scales glinting like smooth gemstone. And around them, spreading for miles upon miles upon miles, there is nothing but this alien nature. Lance takes a deep breath, smelling the flora and the sea, listening to the crash of the closest silver waterfall and the flap of dark leathery birds taking flight high above.

It's not earth but it holds beauty all the same. He revels in it, soaks it up with a peace of mind he thought could never again be attained so far away from home.

"You think we'll get back to earth when it's summertime?" Lance suddenly asks, closing his eyes against the warmth on his skin.

Keith hums, "Maybe."

"Part of me is like, hell yeah, _summer_ and Cuba and the smell of aloe vera and greasy pizza, y'know? But the other part of me just wants to feel the ice on my skin. I'd never seen snow until we moved to the states but it's really, really beautiful."

"I've never seen snow at all."

Lance's eyes whip open and he uses his elbows to push himself up, turning to stare at Keith in shock, "Seriously?"

"Seriously. I grew up in the desert, never been anywhere else." He smirks, "Other than space."

 _"Ha ha."_ Lance sits up completely, "In that case, I hope it's winter when we get back. My Momma knows how to make the _best_ cocoa. The trick is to get some really rich, dark chocolate, the kind you can taste for days. Add some cinnamon or mint and bam! You got yourself a drink from Olympus. But my brother Marco likes to add rum to his. Which is super nasty if you ask me-"

"You really like hot chocolate."

Lance flushes and pulls at a bit of grass, content to feel the soft texture beneath his fingertips. "I guess so. Some of my favorite memories involve my entire family practically snorting the stuff."

Their gazes meet and Lance looks away first, lashes falling to cover his eyes. He loathes the way he feels in this moment. It's too much, vaguely similar to the way he'd felt about Allura when he realized he might have fallen in love with her.

But this is still different. Even compared to Thraine, Keith lights a match in him.

He always has.

"I'm sure my niece will want you to put gummy worms in yours." He tries to distract himself, "Again, totally gross. But you both share a serious sweet tooth, so I'm sure she can talk you into it."

"You really want me to meet them? Your family?"

The question makes Lance frown, "Duh."

"Why?"

"Because you're my friend." The word tastes bitter in his mouth, "And they'd love to get to know you."

Keith's cheeks are bright red, "Right."

"Plus, if you don't meet them at least once they'll totally find a way to kidnap you."

Keith smiles but it's small and quiet and Lance can spot the way he begins to debate with himself. He picks at his nails, a tic that Lance recognized when they were both still at the Garrison.

"What is it?"

"I was just thinking." Keith sounds uneasy, "About uh. About my dad."

Immediately, Lance focuses all of his attention onto him. He waits patiently, knowing the gist of what had happened to the man but it's still a rare topic to breach. One that he and Keith had spoken about only once, right before he left to join the Blade of Marmora.

"I can't help but wish he was around to meet you." Keith winces, "To meet all of you."

"Who says he isn't?"

The question is asked on thin ice. It's something that could easily splinter and crack, spilling Lance into frigid water if Keith takes it the wrong way. But he simply meets Lance's eye, waiting for an explanation.

So, Lance goes on, "My family isn't like, overly religious or anything. Not by a long shot. Well, I mean, my grandparents were die hard Catholics but my mom always wanted our house to be an open place, one that would accept any path we chose to follow. Anyway," He pushes away the embarrassment threatening to stop his ramble, "throughout middle school I really went deep into learning about every religion I could. I wanted to know why we exist, where everything came from. In the end I only got more questions than answers but when I look at the stars, there's no doubt in my mind that there's more to the universe than any of us will ever know. If I can't believe in anything else, I gotta believe that the light of the stars are a promise. That the one's we love are never really gone."

Keith gulps, set in rapt attention. His eyes flit around Lance's face as he were memorizing every crevice and line, "You think he visits me or something?"

"I don't think he ever left you, Keith." The words sit heavy in the air and Lance is so close to crying, he forces himself to say something else. Something silly, yet partially true. "Besides, whenever you feel like introducing us, you gotta let me know first. I wanna look my best to meet your old man."

This has Keith blinking away a film of mist in his eyes and he snorts a laugh, the sound so entirely _him_ that Lance can't help but grin. He reaches for a handful of berries from the basket they'd swiped from the dining hall and shoves them into his mouth, giving him something else to focus on other than the desire to wrap the boy in a tight hug.

Sitting up, Keith turns to face him, eyes glancing toward his lips.

"What?" Lance asks, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

Keith points a finger at his own chin and Lance's eyes widen, arm raising to quickly to wipe the juice away. His skin comes back stained with blue and he realizes that his mouth must look like he'd swallowed gallons of paint.

"You don't look so great yourself, Mullet." Lance uses the nickname sparingly but it still falls easy from his tongue.

He tries and fails to keep his eyes from finding Keith's mouth; from resting there.

"You look fine." Keith clears his throat, "I just figured you'd wanna keep it from getting onto your clothes."

Lance glances down at the pretty white shirt, knowing he'd already ruined it completely. Grass stains the back and several drops are soaked into his collar, the likes of which is clasped against the hollow of his throat.

"Are you ready to head back?" Keith asks, finally turning toward the glow of the slow setting sun.

Lance takes in his profile, eyes traveling the length of his slightly crooked noise- a testament to the fights he'd been in throughout his entire life. He watches the way his long hair brushes against the sharp line of his jaw, the way the healed scar looks smooth even though it twists against his flesh.

"Uh, yeah." Lance feels like he's sinking, letting loose of a rope that was meant to keep him close to shore. "I am."

They stand and start down the hill, the silence between them more relaxed than it's been in a long while. Lance smiles when Karfu lifts his head, sniffing at the air before lowering a leathery wing for Lance to use as leverage to the saddle.

"Bet I can beat you back!" Keith calls out, hands already gripping tight to Takra's reigns.

Lance's answer is a low whistle, a perfect replica of the one the Borakian in the stables had taught him.

Karfu takes off, wings opening to catch the wind.

 

 

★

 

 

When they return to the city, Lance is starved. He says his goodbyes to the Shlisya and follows Keith toward the strange elevator that will take them to the the huge palace. It's not a ride he's particularly happy to take but it's better than trudging down stairs for several hours.

The smell of food greets them the moment they enter a circular courtyard, flowers growing between the coiling root-like walls. Keith starts to walk away, his steps slow as if he were waiting for Lance to catch up.

"Keith." Lance calls out, knowing he can't follow.

Knowing that he has to keep a minuscule bit of distance between them, that's he's already getting himself in too deep.

Keith glances back and Lance brings a hand to the nape of his neck, fingers playing with a few strands of his hair.

"We'll go back, right?" He asks, "To the mountain?"

Keith stares at him for a moment, face shifting in emotions that Lance can't really place. But then he is smiling and giving a definitive nod, voice strong with his answer.

"Of course."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked that little peak into Shiro's POV. He's my absolute favorite from the show and I was really looking forward to delving into his psyche a bit. Plus, I really think that Allura literally taking on the full weight of Shiro's soul would leave them with a powerful connection. Which, in my opinion, is really cool. 
> 
> Anyhoo, I'm also a strong believer that Lance has had multiple existential crises throughout his life (same btw) but he's been prepared to say something like that to someone for a very long time. And he's glad that it was Keith. 
> 
> Next chapter there are several confrontations. It's gonna be a bit intense so...yeah. Slight violence warning.
> 
> I say this each time but thank you SO much for the support and comments/kudos. It means the world to me. I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I'll see you next update! <3


	10. Chapter 10

* * *

 

  

_"You are a fever I am learning to live with-"_

_-Richard Siken_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

 

Keith has come to enjoy several things while being stranded on Borak. While the team tasked with finding the fuel is finally gearing up to leave, he finds that he can rarely stay away from the sky. He lets Takra take him through the mountains and along the flowing waters, his fingers brushing the cool glimmering liquid before being thrust higher than ever. Sometimes, he finds himself travelling through the clouds for miles.

Nightly, everyone listens intently to stories of Borakian history, colorful images lighting the air with shows of battles and falling feathers, mythos ranging from their own pantheons while factual civilizations rise and fall. More often than not, when everyone is gathered and the Borakian's insist on giving them company, Lance's eyes find him in soft light, secret smiles and laughs shared between them like carefree children.

 _Fook?_  One Borakian had asked, to all of their amusement, thick wings ruffled when Shiro had tripped and blurted the human word.  _Who is fook?_

Lounging on pillows and sipping strange drinks has become a common pastime when they aren't allowed to use the barracks for training, making sure to keep their bodies and minds sharp regardless of their current housing.

 _We simply like to stay active._  Allura had told Kona in what she hoped was a good enough excuse to gain permission from the ruler,  _Especially when there is not much else to do._

More than any of this, however, Keith finds that he simply enjoys  _Lance_. More so than any other time during the war, he's positive that they've never truly been as close as this. They'd only managed to back to their mountain once more since the very first time but they had to leave soon after, laughing and sputtering against a sudden downpour. Thunder on this planet is somehow deeper than that on earth, as if it were produced from the molten core instead of the sky. They'd flown through the drenching and felt wholly alive, skin tingling with electricity.

Often times, Lance finds Keith at random hours, eager to lead him to some new discovery.

 _They call this the Exsistra flower._  Lance had it plucked from a huge bush, assuring Keith that he'd asked permission first, blue eyes shining bright in the dark gardens. _They say it's the flower of life._

 _Life?_  Keith had asked.

Lance nodded and placed it in Keith's palm, the translucent petals shimmering with bits of silver and pink, _It was the first to bloom on their world._

Keith likes to think he's retained good control of his emotions. There's no doubt that it's still difficult, that there's almost always a fierce ache in his chest the moment Lance leaves or when Keith sees him with Thraine, smile wide at the feel of his tail. Times like these, Keith simply spins on his heel, feigns nausea and stalks away.

Now, after a long sparring session with Krolia in the training barracks, Keith steps out of the shower feeling refreshed. He runs a soft cloth through his hair and dresses for dinner, this time adorning a pair of simple leather boots. He laces them to mid-calf and pulls on a loose silver shirt, constantly wishing the Borakian's could give him something a bit less transparent. But he's already scoured the wardrobe in the corner of the room and each time, he finds nothing. He'll have to ask someone, for the umpteenth time, about getting his regular clothes back.

In the meantime, he works on keeping his bubbling excitement to a minimum. The last thing he needs is for the entire team to find out his plans regarding the city. Just yesterday, Lumria told him he could venture into their world freely, with no need for guidance.

 _You may get lost._  Lumria practically bounced on their feet,  _But our kingdom is a wonder so it should be a fun way to lose yourself, don't you think? And if you are lucky, you will catch the final remnants of our Prumnid Festival!_

When he steps out of his room, it is eerily quiet. Almost immediately his nerves stand on end and he glances back, trained eyes focusing on the dark end of the hall. He shakes off the ill feeling and looks ahead, intent on getting to the dining hall without screaming as if he'd entered a damn haunted house.

But he only gets so far.

"Keith."

The voice is sharp and controlled, a hissing sort of noise that crawls along his spine.

This time, Keith turns much slower, body tensing at the sight of a large figure standing a few feet behind him. Keith wishes he'd brought his knife. Since when does he let his guard down enough to forget his fucking knife?

"Yeah?" He asks, moving so he can face the newcomer.

Thraine takes a step closer, finally revealing the plains of his face to the light. "You're heading to dinner?"

"Uh. Yep."

He nods, "I am as well."

It's so quiet, so tense, Keith swears he can hear the building breathe. Each distant creak and groan sounds as loud as the Borakian thunder.

Keith gathers his nerves and tries to push the feelings of unease aside as another thing the Marmoran does that is simply strange. Personally, Keith knows all too well what it's like to be seen as awkward and weird during conversation or social interaction.

Before he can make a move to hurry to the others, however, Thraine is speaking again.

"Your team trusts you very much."

"Okay-"

"But I do not."

The tension builds and the air freezes, both of them seemingly sizing the other up. Though where Keith is confused and frowning, Thraine lets nothing show on his face. There is no anger, no displeased scowl or narrowing of his eyes.

"Why is that?" Keith asks carefully, minding the length of the Marmoran's tail.

There's no doubt in his mind that the appendage could crush a skull. That it could wrap someone up and fling them like rotten fruit, splattering guts during the heat of battle.

Thraine tilts his head to the right, an action Keith has come to learn as the Marmoran's habit for thought. He's studying Keith. He's gauging him like one would an insect beneath a magnifying glass.

Finally, he says, "Even that Borakian from our first feast took notice of your stares. Just as I have for a long time now, they saw the way you looked as if you wished to harm Lance."

Keith freezes with the realization that Thraine had heard Lumria all those nights ago. That he knew the reason for Keith's unruly outburst; had probably listened to each word passing their lips.

"I'd never hurt him." Keith clenches his fists, "And you're a fucking idiot if you think that I would. That I even  _could_."

"What is it then?" Thraine asks, stepping closer, voice relaying to Keith that he's probably already figured it out.  
  
That he's simply curious to see if Keith will admit it.

"Nothing. You have absolutely  _nothing_  to worry about. So just leave it alone, alright? Lance and I are friends."

"Friends." Thraine makes a strange, guttural noise. "Forgive me if I don't believe you."

"I don't need you to believe me."

Thraine stalks forward until the two of them are much too close for Keith's liking.

"I see through this facade of friendship." He says, "And if you don't intend to harm him, there is only one other reason for your actions, yes? I see it on your face. I smell it in the air."

Keith doesn't know what comes over him then. There's no excuse for the way his lips tilt up, the way he meets Thraine's eye with no bashful control or denial. Maybe later he'll reflect and know that he did it simply because he was taken off guard. That his old defense mechanism hadn't truly gone away; that he would rather push the person to hit him first. But for now, he simply lets his body act on its own: taunting and full of implications.

Thraine's ears push back against his head and he snarls, the noise reverberating throughout the hallway. He surges forward and pushes Keith against the wall, his back slamming with a harsh thud. Keith sucks in a sharp breath and feels claws dig into his arm, a hand rising to close around his neck tight enough to hurt but not enough to bruise.

"So you  _can_  get angry." Keith hisses into his face. "Even jealous."

Other than the growl, Thraine's face remains an indecipherable blank slate.

"I am not jealous, Keith Kogane." His voice is deep and stable, not at all what Keith was expecting.

This alone makes his hair stand on end. Thraine's eyes are large, not even crazed, simply free of emotion. Practically empty.

Thraine continues, "My interest is in keeping Lance safe. In keeping him by my side, where it appears he very much belongs."

"He isn't a possession." Keith wheezes, "He'd never let you speak about him like this if he were here-"

"That's not what he implies in the dark. In our bed." Thraine glances toward Keith's mouth, noticing the way his canine's are growing sharper where they protrude from his gums.

Keith can see his own eyes reflected in Thraine's, can spot the moment his iris changes from human grey to something purely Galran; the way his pupil's thin to slits.

"I knew there was something wrong with you...you don't feel  _anything_ , do you?" Keith tries to swallow but it's difficult against the weight on his throat. "Lance isn't stupid. He'll figure you out. He'll know you're trying to use him to feel something, right? Because why else would you be with him? You're gonna suck his emotions dry-"

Thraine brings Keith forward before slamming him back into the wall, the noise even louder than before, "You know nothing."

His other hand pulls at Keith's hair until his head is tilted at a ridiculously painful angle. The Marmoran's teeth are bared and he's intent on lowering them toward Keith's neck; most likely aiming to tear at his flesh. Although Blade members are intensely trained and impossibly mission-driven, they are still Galra. Keith knows more than anyone that they are brutal in their instincts.

Keith raises a leg, more than ready to slam it into Thraine's groin. But then the Marmoran is pulled away, feet leaving the floor in a fluid motion, face finally shifting to shock. Keith's coughs are harsh when Thraine's hand falls from his throat, the ghost of his claws continuing to press on his tonsils.

Lumria's wings are taut on their back, fingers gripping tight to Thraine's collar.   
  
They glance between the two of them, "What is this?"

Thraine uses his tail to pull at Lumria's wrist and they quickly drop him, ignoring the way his hand twitches toward the blade on his belt.

"Nothing." Keith manages to cough out, "Just a...misunderstanding."

Lumria meets his eye, some form of realization falling across their face. They quickly turn to Thraine and point toward the end of the hall, "It is best for you to eat now. The food is quickly growing cold."

Hesitating only a moment longer, Thraine eventually relents. He gives Lumria a wide berth and doesn't turn to look at Keith like most others would. He simply disappears back into the dark.

"Are you alright?" Lumria lowers to a knee and meets Keith's eye, "That was a secret message, yes? That word was intentional."

Keith manages a bemused smile, "I guess."

"Which entails that you would like this encounter to be kept between the three of us?"

Keith nods and Lumria narrows their eyes at him, obviously displeased. "Then I suggest you make those silly fangs of yours disappear."

If Keith weren't so angry, if his hands weren't shaking with the need to lash out, he might have laughed.

 

 

★

 

 

Dinner is a blur.

Keith swallows his food but it tastes like dirt, the drink following suit. On a reasonable level he knows that the feast is prepared deliciously. But with another bite into tender meat, he only feels his soured mood deepen.

"Who pissed in your drink?" Pidge asks, staring at him from across the table.

Several seats down, Thraine's ears twitch.

"Just tired." Keith practically throws his fork down onto his plate.

"What did you do today?" Shiro asks, the question interrupting whatever Pidge had planned to say next.

Keith brings a hand to his throat but pushes away the irrational the urge to cross the table and stab his fork into Thraine's own neck. He glances instead at Lance, feeling the boiling frustration turn to a simmer.

"I found a trail to run on." He hates lying to Shiro and knows the older man has been wanting to get Keith alone for days. But for now, Keith decides that lying is necessary. Until they get their fuel, peace is needed to function. "Followed it around the entire palace."

"Know what you should be doin'?" Matt speaks up, pointing a drenched piece of meat at him. "Chilling out. Calming down. Soaking up our vacation. That's what I'm doing and I gotta say, I already feel totally refreshed."

Pidge rolls her eyes, "Congrats."

"Don't get snippy." Matt jokes, "You gave yourself work all on your own. No one asked you to join the excavation team."

"You forget you're gonna be going too?" Shiro smirks, "Allura and Krolia already volunteered you."

Matt looks aghast, the food on his fork falling into the mush on his plate. He turns toward Krolia but she refuses to meet his eye, instead looking rather pointedly at something a Borakian is saying. At Matt's face full of betrayal, their end of the table erupts in laughter.

Yet, Keith's amusement is tainted. His laughter dies quickly and he sits back in his seat, opting to take several hearty gulps of his drink. A sinking feeling sits heavy in his gut. It sinks his spirits, rips to shreds his earlier excitement. And throughout the rest of the dinner, no one takes notice. No one sees him fuming or the way Lumria glances between he and Thraine, the latter looking even more tense than usual.

Behind him, his tail flicks steadily onto the ground.

 

★

 

 

Breathless, Keith falls to his back with a grunt. The training barracks are lit by filtered evening sunlight, the likes of which covers his skin and adds to his already over-heated body. Sweat drips along his temples and into his hair and he feels like a puddle; swamped and defeated.

Strange birds, the type that flit around the mountaintops, nest in the twining roof. Keith wonders if the barracks are meant to be privy to the open sky. If the Borakian's allow rainfall to soak their skin if they feel as overworked as he does. Feathers undulate in color above him, ranging from leathery beige and brown to rainbows catching the light. His tired eyes watch as young hatchlings peer over their golden nests, three eyes on each beaked face studying Keith with rapt curiosity.

"The hell you lookin' at?" He calls out, watching as they jump up on their little feet at the sound of him.

"Someone who needs to take a nap."

The voice makes Keith panic a moment before the calm washes in, Shiro's tone echoing around the empty room.

"How long have you been there?"

Shiro hums and takes a seat beside him, eyes trailing up to catch sight of Keith's little companions. He watches them for a moment and Keith takes in the sight of him like so many times before, almost cementing him into his mind.

"You're gonna end up breaking some bones." Shiro says, knowing Keith doesn't really need the advice but giving it anyway. "Your knuckles can only take so much of a beating."

"Yeah."

Shiro looks down at him, brows furrowing. "What's going on with you?"

"Hmm?" Keith feigns ignorance, "Nothing. M'fine."

When Shiro doesn't look away, Keith tries to turn his head. But the other man knows Keith all too well. He pushes his foot onto Keith's and urges him with no words, knowing he'll relent like a crumbling sand castle. It's effortless, the way Shiro can get him to open up.

"I'm just being stupid." Keith sighs and sits up before crossing his legs.

"You can be kinda oblivious," Shiro smirks, "but you aren't stupid."

Keith winces, "Sure."

"Look, I've been wanting to talk to you about something."

At the change in Shiro's tone, Keith finally turns to meet his eye. The look on his face makes him freeze. It makes his stomach do flips, a sick feeling washing into the base of his throat.

"Neither you or Lance are bad people." Shiro seems to be searching for words, as if he were worried about offending Keith. "You're both my family. I trust you and I love you. But I also know that sometimes it's better to hear someone else's opinion when your own seems faulty."

"What're you talking about?"

Shiro takes a deep breath before continuing, "I saw you and Lance several days ago, in the hallway. And I see the way you look at each other. Like...like you're keeping secrets-"

Keith balks, "Are you implying something?"

"If you're in some kind of, like, secret relationship or something-"

 _"Woah."_  Keith flushes, disbelief making him immediately defensive. "You think Lance is  _cheating_  on Thraine?"

When Shiro doesn't reply, Keith takes that for an answer.

"He's not. He'd never do that." Even as he says it, Keith feels himself hating the words. "And the only one he has feelings for  _is Thraine."_

"But you wish his feeling were for you."

It isn't a question. It settles between them and digs in like roots, the truth said out loud a beating drum in Keith's brain. It's as if a bomb had gone off, the ringing in his ears reaching a spiking crescendo before, he's sure, the inevitable plummet.

At Keith's silence, Shiro nods and looks back toward the birds. His voice is quiet, soft and comforting and underlined with his own regrets and pain. "You look at him the way I used to stare at Adam."

That does it. Keith's shoulders fall and he feels cracks resounding throughout his chest, the flux of emotions releasing like a dam.

"It's fuckin' crazy how much I like him." His voice shakes with the threat of tears. The admission is pulled from him by invisible hands, the kind that won't let go, "It came out of nowhere. Or maybe I always felt like this and I was just too oblivious to realize it. One second I can handle it, you know? I can bottle it all up and pretend nothing's different, that we're soldiers and teammates and friends. And the next second I can't even  _breathe_  when I look at him." Shiro doesn't look away from the ceiling but Keith can tell he's listening. That he's going to let Keith say and do whatever he needs in order to find a bit of relief. "And I can't do anything about it, can I? I can't tell him or show him without hurting him in the end."

Several birds fluff their feathers and Shiro watches a few float to the ground, "You think it'll pass?"

The thought alone makes Keith want to scream. To pound his fists back into the strange bags on the walls, to feel his knuckles ache instead of his chest.

"No." He admits, the words ripping out of him. He debates telling Shiro about Thraine's spark of violence but that admission is a box he'd rather keep chained up. The last thing he needs is for Shiro to hunt the Marmoran down. "At least, not for a long time. Not until we're back on earth and..and I can.."

"Run?" Shiro brings an arm to wrap around Keith's shoulders, "You know, part of me wants to pick on you. To remind you about the time, I think you were fifteen, that you swore you'd quicker eat a cactus than have a crush." He smiles, "Instead, I'll give you some advice."

"Of course-"

"Patience yields focus."

Keith frowns. "That's nothing new."

"Nope." Shiro shrugs and brings a hand to ruffle Keith's hair, "But it works for tons of situations. Even this one."

When Keith prods him for an explanation, Shiro evades. He simply changes the subject or talks about the birds, which Keith is quickly starting to loathe. Who cares about them when he's confused and tired and more than ready to just burst into Lance's room and throw away all of his previous promises to let him go; to get the rejection over with.

_Patience yields focus._

The words remind Keith of training. Of fighting and war and even studying for exams.  
  
Not this.

Before Shiro leaves, he gives Keith a knowing look, "Even if he's with someone else, Lance is Lance. And more than anything, he cherishes you. He cherishes your friendship. Don't let jealousy ruin it."

 

 

★

 

"You heard everything?"

Lumria nods and tries to look sorry. But their wings are jittery and their eyes wide, blunt-toothed smile much too bright in the quiet of Keith's room.

"Great." Keith sits on his bed and runs a hand down the length of his face, "Now everyone will know-"

"I've told you before, I can keep secrets." Lumria tries to whisper, "Even secrets of the heart."

"I feel like i'm in some kind of shitty romcom." Keith groans. "And before you ask, no. I didn't ask Lance to come with me tomorrow.""

"Romcoom." Lumria frowns, ignoring Keith's proclamation of defeat. "That sounds hideous."

At this, Keith lets out a breathy laugh. The Borakian brought him sweet fruits since he'd left dinner early and his stomach growls at the thought of devouring them. Still, he simply stands to step out of his boots, the heavy things tossed to the other side of the room. Lumria watches him with interest.

"Did you want something?" Keith asks, "Other than bringing me some food?"

Lumria's shakes their head, "No."

"So...why are you still here?"

"Because you are my Yumriin." At Keith's confused look, Lumria translates: "You are my friend."

Keith blinks, "Oh."

The Borakian suddenly strides forward and their feathers, green and pretty as they are, rise to cover Keith completely. He's tense at the feel of them covering his back, creating a cave of protection. The wings push him forward until Lumria can rest a hand on his hair, their other long arm wrapping around his shoulders.

"There, there." Lumria says, trying to comfort Keith in a way that shows they'd been watching the paladin's interactions. "Love is always a heavy burden to bear."

"It's not-" Keith clears his throat, "it's not love."

Lumria doesn't sound convinced, "Silly hooman."

 

★

 

 

The next morning, after the chaos of the previous day has settled, Keith finds himself heading toward the stables. The air is cooler than ever and it bites at his cheeks but that won't stop him. While most of the others have set out to extract the components for fuel, Keith decides that exploring the city is still on his agenda even the day is darkened by his mood. He runs up the final steps and takes a deep whiff of the Shlisya, hearing Takra chirp in greeting. Lumria had given him the general coordinates of the landing pad for the creatures and he braces himself in the search for it, knowing a city as huge as this could quickly become overwhelming.

Only, when he reaches for Takra's stable door, he knows he isn't alone. Whether it's his Galran senses or the training from the Blade, he can hear a shifting foot and soft released breath. When he turns, he already has his knife in his hand. No way is he gonna be thrown from the stables by Thraine-

"Uh, hey." Lance looks sheepish, a Shlisya treat in his hand.   
  
In his other, a brush with sturdy, thick bristles.

"What're you doing here?" Keith asks, moving to sheathe his weapon.

"Thought I'd give Karfu a scrub. It's been a while."

Keith nods, "Right."

When a look of confusion passes over Lance's face, Keith turns to Takra. He reaches for the heavy saddle on the door and unlatches the lock, ignoring the way Lance has begun to whisper to Karfu. Gentle little coos leave his lips against the sound of a brush scrubbing at scales. Early morning light reflects off of Takra and Keith takes a deep, steadying breath.

Then he's whipping around, steel resolve coating his nerves.

 _You think it'll pass?_ Shiro had asked.

Keith hadn't lied in his answer. He spoke the truth aloud and Shiro knew that Keith planned to run away the moment they reach Earth. If not physically, he'd no doubt put distance between he and Lance until it completely annihilated the tender moments they've shared. Yet, Keith knows he doesn't truly want that.  
  
He refuses to let Thraine feel as if he's successfully scared him into submission. 

Keith wants to push back.

To stop running away.

"Lance." He calls out, voice strong in the chilly morning air. He waits until the boy's eyes are on him before asking, "You wanna come somewhere with me today?"

When Lance agrees, Keith's day suddenly looks a thousand times brighter.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oof, i hope you enjoyed this chapter :\ The next is gonna be lighter and fun, I promise!
> 
> (Also, thank you so much to everyone who left me a kind message before I deleted the hiatus note. I seriously appreciate your support and understanding ♡ )


	11. Chapter 11

 

* * *

 

 

 

_"Where things become truly difficult and unbearable, we find ourselves in a place already very close to its transformation."_

_-Rainer Maria Rilke_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

**Shiro:**

 

The aircraft is more of a shuttle than a jet and Shiro isn't sure that he likes it. Each dip feels as if he's plummeting to the ground but there's no saving lift, as if they go down and down and down toward the core of the world.   
  
"How far out is it again?" Matt asks, opening a holo-screen with the push of his finger on a thin metallic wristband.  
  
A rumble shakes the interior of the shuttle and Shiro watches a Borakian wake from sleep, all six of their eyes blinking open fast.  
  
"It will take two days to reach the safest landing and several more to find the elements. Depending on where they are, it could take even longer to excavate them."  
  
"Shit." Pidge sighs, leaning her head back against the wall.  
  
Shiro smirks and rubs at his eyes, wishing he'd been able to sleep more the night before. He's exhausted and more than anxious, though Allura had tried to ease a bit of peace into his psyche before he'd left. Something is off. It's a churning feeling that he _could_ blame on fatigue if it weren't so strong; if it didn't overpower everything else in his mind.  
  
The further they get from the palace and the city, the more Shiro thinks it would have been best that he stayed.  

 

★

 

**Lance:**

  
Lance can't help but stare.

Sure, he'd visited city after city while trekking through space, some destroyed while others weren't. But each time they encounter a new civilization, he's still awestruck. Even on Earth he'd dreamed of visiting ancient ruins that hadn't been destroyed by the third world war; he'd envisioned a backpack strapped to his shoulders and a huge lined map, his feet leading him to and fro with little care as to where he really ended up.

Still, though this planet isn't Earth, he thinks it'll do.

Flying Karfu over the buildings never prepared him for seeing them at ground level and he is amazed by the way they seem to sprout like trees, huge transparent bubble shapes looking a bit like spores displaying offices and homes and shops. Looking down, he watches the rippling reflection of the ocean beneath his feet, each rolling wave appearing powerful and huge. It's hard to imagine being stranded while it overtook the world and even if water _is_ his proclaimed element, he can't help the tinge of fear that sometimes interrupts his rapt observations.

"Should we ask for directions?" Keith suddenly asks beside him, grimacing at the busy streets.

Lance scoffs, "No way. Let's just wander-"

"We've been wandering for hours."

"Are you about to start _pouting?"_ At Keith's glare, Lance can't help but snicker. "You are, you big baby!"

Borakian's go about their business like the midday rush of New York or Havana or any other large city full of life. They glance at Keith and Lance with interest but none of them show hostility, which they're really grateful for. Though Keith no doubt has his blade at the ready, the last thing either of them want is to have to use it.

"So, back to our super important conversation." Lance leads Keith toward what could only be a restaurant, eyes sparkling at the steaming food inside. "Would you rather eat a bucket of pure sugar or ten pounds of-"

"Sugar."

Lance rolls his eyes and takes a seat on a strange rounded chair, "I don't know why I even asked."

"Me either." Keith smirks.

Watching people pass, they grow quiet, feet aching and bellies rumbling. But Lance isn't really worried about food. He's too busy recalling the streets of Fyix and sweet crunchy space candy, the way he and Keith's knees had brushed together and the stars drifting outside of the observation deck; all traitorous, stupid memories.

It's not fair, the way they sneak up on him. It's not fair, the way he feels like a cadet again, all wide eyed in wonder at the boy and his stupid, pretty face.

He doesn't notice the Borakian walk up to Keith or the question directed his way, let alone the glass of strange green juice pushed toward his elbow. For a long while, he doesn't notice anything.

"-okay?" When Lance looks up from his shoes, he finally notices that Keith is practically right in front of him, back facing the crowd as he shifts in his chair. "Are you there?"

"Oh." Lance clears his throat, "Yeah. Totally."

Keith looks unconvinced, "You've been sorta out of it all day."

Has he? Lance doesn't know. He'll admit he's been dragged into his thoughts much more than he'd like and that they aren't always about Keith, no matter how much he kinda wishes they were. Other thoughts have pricked at him since last night, the likes of which led to his fitful sleep and his early rise. If not for that, he wouldn't have met Keith in the stables at all.

"I'm just.." He licks his lips and picks up his drink, scrunching his nose at the sour taste. When he puts it down, he can't find it in himself to meet Keith's inquisitive eyes. "Last night was a bit rough."

Keith tenses, "Really."

His voice is strained, which is unusual considering he'd been pretty relaxed all day. But Lance feels word vomit rising in his throat and he's way too emotional to stop it or to question the dip in Keith's voice. He's way too weak to hold his own back. Mortified, he feels his eyes swell with tears, the salty water threatening to spill down the slope of his cheeks.

"Lance?"

"Sorry, sorry." He takes a deep breath and looks back up, blinking away the dew in his lashes. "I'm ruining our day-"

Keith frowns, "You're not."

"It's just..I mean," He tries for a laugh but his voice cracks, an embarrassing sound that matches how pathetic he feels. "I knew a fight was bound to happen."

Keith looks shocked, his jaw tensing with the grinding of his teeth, "A fight?"

"I shouldn't be crying about it, huh?"

A Borakian sets down two deep bowls filled to the brim with steaming soup, portions of it looking like extra thin noodles and some kind of crunchy pepper. Lance tries to hide his face but it's not as if the winged person cares much for his tears, which he's actually pretty happy about. God forbid anyone else sees him like this. Keith slides a golden coin across the table and the Borakian pockets it, giving a subtle nod of their head.

"Let's eat-"

 _"Lance."_ Keith's voice takes on an edge, the same tone that he uses when he's trying to make a point, when he's deciding to do something reckless to keep everyone else safe. "Talk to me."

Like a magnet, Lance brings his attention back Keith, eyes traveling across the entire expanse of his face. He always figured he could stare at Keith for hours and never grow bored. And if it weren't for the toiling mess in his chest, he thinks he'd be fine doing just that. But the sun is setting and everything feels ephemeral, like one more blink and the entire course of his life will have meant nothing compared to this. And, god, his heart is a fluttering, impulsive, _brittle_ thing.

"We had a fight." He blurts, watching Keith's brows furrow even deeper, "The uh, the first fight that we've ever had, like, ever."

Keith doesn't say anything and Lance is thankful, knowing he doesn't need anything close to advice. It's enough just to talk about it, to let it out now that Hunk is gone to find their damn fuel. He lets his shoulders sag and his shitty excuse of a smile wane, finally giving in to the torrent of regret and lingering anger that has been festering all day.

Lance continues, "So, after dinner everything was normal, y'know? And I was just rambling like usual and I guess I just got a annoying or something? Because by the time I mentioned flying Karfu with you, Thraine just..he just _snapped._ He's usually so cool and collected and it took me off guard. It _scared_ me."

"He what?" Keith asks, chair scooting a tad closer. His neck is starting to color, jaw ticking with an emotion running deep.

"Snapped. Like, he basically told me to shut up." Lance winces, "Kinda. He didn't actually _say_ it but it was definitely implied. I'm making it sound worse than it was-"

"Are you?"

Lance bites his lip and glances at his food, desperate to look anywhere else but at Keith.

"I don't know." He clenches his hands on his pants, making the material bunch. "I just know that I couldn't be around him after that. So I basically told him to fuck off, which I still can't believe I did, and then I suggested he go with the excavation team and just...just leave me alone. I said we needed space. And then I just walked and walked and you know where I ended up?"

A brisk wind blows between them, ruffling Lance's hair. He pushes strands behind his ear, feeling his jewelry brush against his fingers. When he speaks again, it's a gasping of words. An admission that he swore he wouldn't make; that he _promised_ himself he wouldn't say out loud, "I went to you."

"What?" Keith's voice is almost a whisper.

Lance whips his attention back to Keith, meeting his eyes in a flash. "I went straight to your door. I stood there for a long time, debating, wondering if you were awake. I don't know why."

"Because we're friends."

"Are we?"

Keith flinches as if Lance struck him bare-knuckled in the face. Immediately, he reaches out to grab his hand. It's supposed to be friendly and purely platonic but when their fingers lace together, he feels his chest do fucking aerobatics.

"I didn't mean it like that." He feels Keith's grip tighten around his, "I just meant..we weren't always like this, you know? The two of us. We used to hate each other so it's just kinda strange that i'm crying about my fucking boyfriend to you. This is totally ridiculous, isn't it?"

"I never hated you."

The words are a knife and a soothing balm all at once and he doesn't trust himself enough to speak. He can't get anything out but a simple, "Hmm?"

Keith shakes his head, "I never hated you. Ever. Even when you put that sticky homemade shit on my face while I was sleeping."

The laugh that escapes Lance is a breathy one, full of relief and bemusement that out of all of the things Keith could have recalled from their times spent bickering, he chose to bring up _that_. "It was supposed to hydrate your skin."

"Well, it stunk." He grimaces, "And it hurt like hell when I tried to get it off. I thought it was permanent and I'd have walk around with neon green slime on my face for the rest of my life."

Lance leans forward and punches his shoulder, his laugh turning into a full blown chortle. And just like that, Lance's dark cloud has evaporated until he's able to calm down with a lingering glee. His mouth twitches in the threat of another smile.

"To think I used to believe you were some hardened badass." Lance sniffs, "You're such a dork."

"Ditto."

Neither of them have moved but when Lance's stomach practically screams at him in hunger, he finally glances down at their joined hands. He memorizes the way Keith's pale fingers look without his gloves, the way his own brown skin is freckled against them. And then he's pulling away, trying to keep that cloud from reforming above his head.

"Right, well." He turns toward the table and ignores the way Keith doesn't move, "I'm starving. And I heard someone mention something about music in the town square that'll start in like, thirty minutes, which we absolutely _cannot_ miss."

Keith scoffs before bringing his chair back around until they're facing each other again, "I'm not dancing."

"Sure you are."

"No." He picks up a curved utensil, "I'm _not."_

★

 

"I can't believe you're making me do this."

Lance tugs at Keith, making him spin through the crowd and the pretty floating lights. "I'm not making you do anything-"

"We're _dancing_." Keith grumbles, "I don't dance."

"Really? You sure? Cause, I mean, it seems like you are right now."

Music flows all around them, echoing off of the towering buildings and the rushing water far below but Lance yet to figure out where it even comes from. This place, much like the dining hall in the palace, erupts with songs like magic. Keith holds onto him like his life depends on it, fingers settling tight on Lance's waist. It's a bit hilarious seeing him so unsure of himself, Lance admits. In battle he's always precise. His feet help him lunge with dangerous speed, face set in determination while his hand strikes killing blows.

Who knew the great Keith Kogane could be thrown off by rhythm. Or, in his case, the lack thereof.

"I told you," Lance tries his hardest not to laugh, "just shift your feet when I take a step back. And your hips-"

"I'm moving them!"

"You look like my grandpa when he had too much to drink."

Keith rolls his eyes and presses closer until they're chest to chest. The proximity makes Lance lose his breath, cheeks warming and no doubt blooming bright red. Though Keith used to be a few inches shorter than him, now they're level. Warm breath brushes his ear and it sends a shiver running the length of his spine, all the way to the tips of his toes.

"Today's been fun." Lance says, wanting to fill the momentary silence. "We should hang out like this when we get back to earth."

Keith hums, "Yeah?"

"Yep."

He leans closer and Lance's heart leaps toward his throat, eyes going wide; fingers tightening on Keith's hip.

But then he's simply resting his chin on Lance's shoulder, voice a deep rumble, "Deal."

Borakians flare their wings all at once, creating a sea of feathers. Some rise in the air, looking like creatures from some ancient biblical story, their eyes shining against the bright colorful lights. Lance glances up, watching them twirl. They're graceful no matter their size, voices undulating with constant gentle conversation.

"What do you think all of this is for?" He wonders aloud, wishing he'd asked before dragging Keith into the fray.

Keith shrugs, "Lumria called it a Prumnid festival."

" _Prumnid_. Sounds fancy." Lance snickers, slowly sliding his hand to rest on the dip of Keith's back. It should be awkward, maybe even weird, but it's not. He just feels calm, at peace and safe and really, _really_ happy. "So, you and Lumria, huh?"

"What?"

Lance feels Keith's hair brush his cheek, tickling at the light stubble on his chin. "Y'know. Really big alien, pretty red hair, a total babe if I do say so myself. I see you two together a lot."

"So?"

 _"Sooo,"_ If Keith could see him, he'd probably hate the way Lance's eyebrows wiggle, "are there wedding bells ringing in the future?"

"Oh my god, seriously?" Keith tries to pull away but Lance just steps closer, not letting this go until he gets clear answers.

In a way, he hopes something _is_ going on between them. It would make everything so much easier.

"Seriously." He says, "I'm not gonna name any names but a little bird told me-"

"You're gonna believe Pidge?"

Lance puts a small amount of distance between them, enjoying the grumpy look on Keith's face when he's forced into a twirl beneath Lance's risen hand. The music rises in tempo and the lights pulse, up and down and side to side. Purple passes between them, shining along Keith's sharp features.

"I'm not into Lumria." He says before pushing Lance into a twirl of his own.

"It's cool if you are, Mullet. I, of all people, definitely will not judge."

Keith grimaces and pulls him back to his chest with a bit too much force, making a subtle gasp fall from Lance's lips. He meets Lance's eye before glancing away, mouth thinning. The shifting lights make it impossible for Lance to even _try_ to figure out the emotions clouding his face.

"I don't..there's someone-" He flexes his fingers against Lance's, both of their palms sweaty. "I don't like Lumria, okay? We're friends. _Just_ friends."

Lance raises his brows, "I was just curious."

When the song slows, Lance finds himself not wanting to let go. Even when they wander toward the edge of the crowd he holds on to Keith's hand, reveling at the way his thin shirt shows off the broad expanse of his back. Time with the Blade helped his body tone to the core of his muscles, keeping him lean and fit and unfortunately, _very_ distracting.

"We should go." Keith glances toward the sky, unaware of Lance's lingering gaze.

He watches the bob of his throat and wonders if perhaps his green drink had been similar to alcohol because though he _knows_ he shouldn't look at Keith like this, he can't find the strength to stop. One moment he's nodding, absentmindedly agreeing, and the next he's tugging at Keith until they're face to face.

"What-"

"I don't want to go." Lance admits, "We can find somewhere to stay tonight, maybe watch the Borakian equivalent of movies and just..hang out. _Keep_ hanging out. Just the two of us."

Keith looks flabbergasted, totally lost for words. Today's been a whirlwind for him and Lance can see it by the way he opens his mouth before ultimately closing it, breath making his chest rise and fall a bit too fast. 

"But that'd be crazy, right?" Lance lets his hand go, "They probably don't even _have_ TVs."

With that, he pushes past Keith altogether. His face is burning and he suddenly feels kind of sick, almost like he doesn't even recognize himself. Like he doesn't _know_ himself. He's not the kind of guy to stay with someone else while his boyfriend waits for him to come back. There's no way he's that terrible and if he is, if it's some huge secret flaw in his character that's finally making an unwanted appearance, he knows it's best that he sticks to his original decision to put distance between the two of them.

 _No more city outings._ He tells himself, _No more sharing secrets and holding fucking hands._

When he climbs onto Karfu's saddle, he forces himself to look at the open air ahead. He tells himself over and over:

 _No more falling in love with Keith Kogane._  

 

★

 

  
After promising to see him at dinner, Lance watches Keith leave the stables with a frown. The night is cold and though they're actually several hours late, there's probably a feast-worth of food still sitting on the table inside. He knows it's time to find Thraine, to apologize and explain where he's been. It's time to own up to his feelings, to confront his guilt and confusion, maybe even tell the truth about his renewed crush on Keith and hope the Marmoran doesn't leave him for it.

But the moment Lance finally manages to drag himself through the doors of the palace, a huge hand wraps around his mouth. His shout is muffled as he's pulled into a dim hallway, breath leaving him in panicked, frightened huffs.

"Lance."

The voice, at first, is unfamiliar. But when he's turned around, Lumria's eyes are wide and frantic, wings held stiff at their back.

"Where is Keith?" They whisper-shout, shaking him roughly by the shoulders. " _E_ _verything_  was a trap."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this chapter would be fun but uhhhhh, it turned out way more angsty than I intended lmao
> 
> Sorry this took so long to update and another sorry for the length of this chapter, it's a bit short. I hope you liked it and thank you for being so patient.
> 
> Next chapter: A small Thraine POV and then everything takes a HUGE, _deadly_ turn. Also, I know it's taking forever but a confession IS coming. Just...not in the way you'd think? ok bye before i give anything away ahh


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just wanted to remind everyone that this chapter has violence, blood/gore, minor character death, angst, etc.
> 
> I'm sorry in advance for any mistakes!

 

* * *

 

 

_“Love is my religion—I could die for that. I could die for you."_

_-John Keats_

 

* * *

 

 

 

**Shiro:**

 

 

The mountains of Borak tower like giants.

Shiro can’t help but glance up every few minutes, eyes scouring the trees that give way to literal fields while other times he’s struck by the sight of infinite falling water. Shimmering colors of silver and gold spray into the nighttime air, sometimes laying so thick on his skin that he can’t help but trail a finger through it.

“How much further?” Matt asks, “According to this map, we should have already encountered the closest site for excavation. This is updated, right? This mountain is supposed to cut our planned trek down by days-”

Pidge scoffs and bumps her shoulder into his, “Quit complaining so much. You’re giving me a headache.”

“Yeah, well I’m getting a headache from all of _this.”_ He waves his hand around, lips turning to a frown when he’s struck with another burst of gold mist.

Shiro smirks and follows behind Hunk as he clambers over a rather large ledge, his strong arms lifting him with ease. Though before he can trip when he makes it up top, Shiro reaches out and holds fast to his shoulder.

“Thanks.” Hunk breathes, a small band of sweat wrapping around his neck.

A wave of nausea sloshes into Shiro. It isn’t the first time this has happened since they’ve been gone but it still manages to make him uneasy, his throat bobbing to keep the threat of sickness way, way down. He tries to distract himself by watching one of their guides, his eyes focused on the way their feathers fluff and rise to keep balance. The wind grows in strength the higher they go, bringing an inevitable chill.

When the nausea eventually returns, it’s strong enough to make Shiro stop in his tracks. He wavers on his feet but the others don’t notice. They’re chattering and laughing, voices drifting back to him the longer he remains unmoved. Beneath the roll and toil of his stomach, there is a twinge of something new. He brings a hand to his chest, feeling the pull of muscles. And then, when a burst of panic and rage races through him completely, he almost tumbles from the force of it.

A large hand grabs hold of his arm, fingers wrapping tight. “Are you alright?”

The Borakian is a shock, simply because they aren’t supposed to be there. Shiro was to trail behind the entire team, to keep watch and ensure safety.

“What-”

Shiro’s voice is cut off the moment three long fingers wrap around his mouth, the hold quickly becoming constricting. His boot slips but the Borakian keeps him up, only this time it isn’t to save him.

“You have to know, my people strive for peace.” The Borakian whispers, wings spreading wide. “We do not find pleasure in this.”

Before they can continue, Shiro feels a surge of rage. It blazes through him, sending him into a primal instinct to remain alive. To survive.

If anyone can do that, it’s him. He’s had his ride with death and though it wasn’t permanent, it was real enough to seize his heart and turn it inside out; to rebirth him as a lion meant to protect his pride. With a snarl, he gives himself over to that familiar form of violence.

It’s easy to flip the Borakian through the air and when he does they have no time to flap their wings. They land in a heap, numerous eyes going wide as the breath is knocked from their lungs. Shiro moves fast and grabs their shirt with an unbreakable tight grip, until his muscles are bulging in his arm and his knuckles turn pale.

“What the fuck do think you’re doing?” He hisses, feeling another surge of Allura’s emotions tear into him.

He knows what these feelings are and it scares the shit out of him, makes him almost rabid with desperation to get back to the group and the palace.

The Borakian doesn’t reply, instead opting to rise to their full height.

“I’ve fought beings that could tower over you.” Shiro holds the Borakian tighter, “And I won. Every single time.”

“Not this time.” The Borakian says, a strange clicking noise vibrating in their throat.

They lift a wing and wrap it around Shiro, creating a makeshift barrier before unfurling with frightening speed. He flies through the air and for a terrifying moment he thinks he’ll be thrown right over the side of the mountain. But then he’s landing with a huff, rolling and tumbling down a rather steep slope. He turns his body until his shoes can catch on the turf, pangs of pain blossoming along the length of his legs.

Kicking up dirt and rock and grass, he reaches his hand forward to yank at anything that will hold. It hurts like hell but there’s no way that’ll stop him. When his fingers catch on a jutting vine he takes a deep, steadying breath through his nose.

 _Just breathe._ He tells himself, nostrils flaring as he takes in copious amounts of oxygen.

A cool rush breaks through the fire in his body and he welcomes it, knowing Allura can feel everything he’s going through. They work together to create a mold of strength.

When the Borakian slides down the ledge, Shiro is ready.

He uses the momentum of his feet on the mountainside to thrust himself up until he can yank at a wing, hearing something snap and crunch beneath his palm. The Borakian screeches, lilac hair quickly becoming bloodied when Shiro uses a loose stone to slam into their temple. Risking the fall, he pulls the Borakian closer, until their faces are mere centimeters apart.

Before everything, Shiro might have hesitated. Before he’d been captured and tortured and forced to kill, before he’d watched allies and thousands of innocent civilians die, his heart would have cracked and burst at the thought of what he knows he has to do.

But that was before.

Thinking only of making it back to his team, Shiro doesn’t let himself look into the Borakian’s eyes. One moment they’re both struggling to remain upright and the next, the Borakian is falling. Their wings cradle their body but with a snapped bone it’s impossible for them to fly. They have no leverage, no chance of survival.

Shiro plasters himself to the mountain, eyes squeezing shut the moment he hears the body fall into the trees. If they make it all the way to the ocean, he doesn’t know. All he knows is the urgency coursing through his blood. The moment he heaves himself to stability, that urgency screams at him to hurry.

To run.

 

★

 

**Thraine:**

 

Thraine, for better or worse, knows when he's made a grave mistake.

Be it a wrong call during a mission or a misstep while calibrating a bomb; he recognizes the signs that what he's done may be the leading cause to his own misgivings and failures.

For all of their time together, Lance had never looked at him with anything other than adoration. The expression on his face from last night doesn't fade from Thraine's memory like he thought it would, simply because when they'd bickered he felt nothing but a shimmer of annoyance and, maybe, a strange twinge in his chest that put him on edge. Still, when the boy had cast him away with a curse, that twinge had disappeared until all that was left was a small fracture in his otherwise stoic shell.

Now, Lance has been gone all day and Thraine still sits in the dining hall even after the others have left, tail flicking absentmindedly against the ground. He's not anxious and he's not even guilty, really. He simply waits, knowing Lance will show up eventually. Thraine has planned his apology beforehand and he schools his features to reflect a semblance of regret, trying hard to actually feel it before ultimately giving up.

Twirling his cup, dark red liquid sloshes against the sides. He eyes it, watching the color go 'round and 'round, creating a minuscule whirlpool. The rest of the palace is silent but with a twitch of his ears he can hear Allura's distant voice and laughter, a door opening with a creak and soon, the soft patter of footsteps on stone.

When he looks up, it is not Lance that walks through the door.

Keith Kogane is windswept, his pale cheeks painted scarlet. For a moment, he doesn't even see Thraine sitting at the long table. He simply runs a hand through his hair, eyes downcast before the inevitable sweep of his gaze. It's trained and cautious, identical to any other Blade who walks into a large room.

When he finally spots Thraine, the air crackles with dark energy.

"Everyone has gone to bed." Thraine says, voice low and controlled.

The last thing he needs is for Lance to walk in on either of them trying to rip out the others throat. He tilts his head to the seat across from him, watching Keith size him up.

"I would like to talk to you-"

"Talk?" Keith snaps, "You sure you don't want to threaten me again? Maybe try to strangle me?"

"I'm sure."

Keith's jaw ticks, his dark eyes trailing from one end of the room to the other. His fingers twitch at his side and Thraine makes sure to keep his attention away from the blade on his hip, knowing that if he were to look, Keith would see it as a threat.

Eventually, after several lengthy seconds, Keith makes his way over. He slides into the seat and though he doesn't take his eyes off of Thraine, his pupils slowly but surely thin to slits.

"Talk." He orders.

Thraine places his chalice on the table but holds his tongue. He wants to see the way Keith processes this meeting, maybe how long it will take for the silence to set him off. If one thing is certain it is that they both obviously have a limit. And when it breaks, they are given away to their temper.

"If you don't speak within the next five seconds, I'll-"

"You and I are similar." Thraine says, interest spiking when Keith's expression turns into something almost desperate, the denial laying thick in his frown. "Don't you think?"

"No. I don't."

"Oh?" Thraine tilts his head, "I've learned many things about you..many things that seem to connect us in some way. Would you like me list them?"

"What do you _want?"_ Keith snaps, suddenly leaning forward on his forearms. His hair falls over his face, several strands shifting on his shoulders. "Don't play games with me."

Thraine hums, "I simply want to settle this bad blood between us."

Shock overtakes Keith but he doesn't move an inch. Throughout all of his years with the Blade, Thraine has never seen any of them relay so much emotion. Though Keith fights like a Marmoran, though he has the skills to manipulate and sneak and kill, he still seems to be drowning. Thraine's ears twitch at the sound of his breathing and further, to the hall of the palace, where he searches endlessly for Lance.

"You want me to believe that?" Keith finally replies, "It sounds like bullshit."

"For the sake of Lance-"

Keith's chair scrapes on the floor and his chest heaves, the fabric of his shirt shifting in ripples. "You want to talk about Lance? How about you start with what you really did to upset him. Let's talk about why he felt the need to run off to the city with _me_ to get away from _you_."

Thraine sits back in his chair, ears twitching. That indignation from last night returns, only now his blood is at a simmer. He knew they'd gone off together but to hear it out loud just cements it in place, reminding him that though he's managed to wedge himself into the blue paladin's life, it seems this boy will always have a solid place in his heart.

Suddenly, both of them freeze, the tension fracturing at the first sign of danger. As trained as they are, it's easy enough to feel the shift in the air. The walls shake with the force of a sonic boom, loud enough to make Thraine press his ears completely flat. When another comes, they look at each other. By the third, they're both sprinting for the door.

 

★

 

**Lance:**

 

 

"Wait!" Lance hisses, wrist held tight in Lumria's long hand. "We can't just leave!"

"If you wish to survive-"

"I don't care!" Lance tries to drag his feet on the ground, teeth gritting with the force of Lumria's grip. "The others are still inside. I won't leave them!"

Lumria's wings suddenly open wide, completely shielding Lance from view. The hall is only several feet from the lift that leads to the landing pad they'd arrived on; where the ship still sits to take them back to the stars.

"Lumria.” A sharp voice greets, sounding familiar and threatening all at once.

Lance is smart enough to keep his mouth shut. By the way Lumria’s shoulders go tense he knows that his best bet at getting out of whatever’s happening is to stay calm; to rely on his training and instincts as a paladin. He takes several quiet steps closer to their wings, only stopping when he feels the brush of soft down on his body. He manages a small peek between the feathers but it’s fleeting, giving him only a brief view of the newcomer.

Kona is draped in what can only be a uniform meant for war. Like most who participate in battle, the leader of the Borakians is covered in glinting silver, from a thick breastplate to the strong straps of their sandals. Lance presses closer, knowing that if he were to move an inch on either side he’d be spotted in an instant.

“I take it you’re headed to the landing dock? To await the return of our scouts?”

Lumria bows their head, “Yes.”

“And you’ve ensured that the rest of the paladin’s are inside of the palace?”

Lance’s gut flips because there’s _no way_ the Borakian should know who they really are. There's absolutely no way they could connect the dots or even gain accurate intel, especially considering almost everyone believes Lance and his team sacrificed themselves in the battle with Lotor. They’d held fast to their story of being meager wanderer’s of the cosmos, not the warriors meant to save it.

“Yes.” Lumria says, voice strong and unwavering. "They remain within the palace."

Though he can’t see them, Lance knows Kona is studying the way Lumria’s wings hold taught. 

“As my only heir, you realize how important today is for our people.” Kona says.

Lance gulps, unable to register the shock pouring into him. His brows furrow at the revelation; that Lumria is the _child_ of Kona. That, for all intents and purposes, Lumria is a being of royalty on this planet and they've chosen to go against their own people to...to what? To help Lance? To save him?

None of it makes sense-

“Have you considered my plea, _Brahmita?”_ Lumria asks.

Kona makes a strange rolling sound in their throat, their own wings extending forward. They’re so huge they completely envelop Lance but all he can do is press even closer to Lumria’s back, wincing at the sharp edge of their spine digging into his chest. It takes him a moment to understand that this is a form of consolement. A hug.

“I know you’ve grown fond of them.” Kona says, “But our people come first. Our planet will _always_ come first.”

Lumria’s feathers twitch, “Yet you threaten to destroy us all." They say something in the Borakian language, the words sounding sorrowful and full of regret. When Lumria speaks next, Lance is grateful that he can once again understand what is said, "The Galra you’ve made a deal with _will_ betray us. Though you've kept us from the brunt of the war, we have all heard the stories. We have seen the images of planets overtaken by their forces."

“The Galra?” Kona’s voice suddenly shifts, sounding like knife sliding on stone. “No, I don’t believe they are much of a concern. It seems I’ve already been betrayed, my child. Right here, in my own home.”

With no warning, Lumria is somehow thrown to the side. Their body hits the wall with extreme force, creating a spiderweb of cracks at their back.

Lance is left unguarded.

His hand flies to his hip but his bayard is gone, left to the moon and his lion. He is completely, utterly defenseless. It's a realization that sends bile traveling from the pit of his stomach all the way to his throat, where it blessedly stops before spilling from his mouth.

“Uh, hi.” He gulps, taking several steps back. Almost immediately, he is met with the wall of feathers. If they weren't connected to a towering, murderous alien he's sure they'd actually be pretty comfortable. “How’re things? You uh, ruling well? Having fun?”

Realistically, Lance should be running away. He should find a way through the feathers and haul ass to anywhere else but here. But from his peripheral he can see Lumria groaning and panting from their slipping consciousness. And, well, there's no way Lance can just leave them here.

Not a chance.

Within the amount of time it takes for Kona to move, Lance has already decided to act fast. He runs to Lumria, knowing within seconds that he'll be tossed like trash to the other side of the room. Knowing it, however, doesn't lessen the pain. With just a look from Kona he is sent flying. He rolls and stops several centimeters short of slamming his head onto the wall; a fatal outcome.

Yet, now that he's down, Kona's attention has shifted. No doubt appearing to be a non-threat, Lance tries desperately to catch his breath. He takes in stinging oxygen through his nose, eyes falling shut to grant himself a quick moment of reprieve.

 _If you have time to breathe, you take it._ Shiro once told him, _Just breathe, Lance._

When he opens his eyes, his lungs expand with ease. He gets to his feet slowly, eyes trained on Kona. Their wings are pulled in and though they tower well above his head, he's had more than enough experience fighting things that seem undefeatable. He slides his eyes to Lumria, shocked to see them staring up at Kona with nothing short of desperation. Blood trickles down their face, mixing with the fiery strands of their red hair.

Kona says something, sounding deceivingly soft and sympathetic. When Lance takes a step forward, Lumria's eyes flicker to his. All six of them widen just a fraction, accompanying a barely visible shake of their head.

Lance tries for a smile.

And then he runs.

In the grand scheme of things, he knows it's a shitty plan. It probably won't even work. Yet, when he jumps to Kona's wings, he still feels his palm meet the soft expanse of feather over bone. He pulls himself up and up, wondering if it's even possible to do much more than distract them. Kona's throat clicks before a large hand raises to drag him away by his neck, the entire scene reminiscent of someone handling a rowdy cat. If he weren't so scared, he might even laugh.

Lumria shouts and makes to stand but Kona slams them back to the wall, effectively keeping them down.

"Rather fascinating creatures, you hoomans are." Kona murmurs, eyes having gone wide enough to reveal a rather blank gaze. Their blunt teeth flash with each word, as if reminding Lance that all it would take to end his life is a single bite. "You trust so easily yet you remain so fragile. So easily broken."

Lance coughs and tries to claw at Kona's hand, feeling the blood become strained and disconnected from his skull.

"I wish it wouldn't have come to this." Kona doesn't sound sorry at all. "But you see, our planet is in danger. Each day, the waters rise and we lose people to the depths. Those that cannot make it to the tallest peaks or our capital city simply wash away. Without the proper tools, we will perish. Even the brightest among us can't invent what we need-"

"Lumria is right." Lance interrupts in a wheeze, vision growing blurry. "The Galra empire has fallen. You made a shitty deal with...with _pirates_ or some lying rogue war lord-"

Kona squeezes tighter.

They're drawing this out, content to make Lumria watch him die, "It matters not, small hooman. They provide the technology we need to fix our mistakes. We weren't lying when we said it will never be our intention to leave our home. But if we can _mend_ it...I must take that chance. All these Galra ask for in return is a rag-tag, lost little troop of travelers. Your pictures have been shown to even the loneliest parts of the cosmos. You must know that."

Lance's vision begins to go dark, the burning of his lungs eventually giving way to an overall numbness.

Then, with no warning, hot blood erupts in a shower between them. Lance drops to the ground in the wake of Kona's scream, their voice breaking until the throne room is filled with the echo of thousands. Gasping for breath, Lance feels his lungs burn and his eyes continue to water until he's almost left sobbing at the return of oxygen. A hulking piece of flesh falls at his feet, the smell rancid.

Knees skid to a stop beside him before a purple hand takes aim again, the barrel of her blaster still smoking. Krolia holds Lance by the shoulders, practically shielding his body with her own.

"The Princess will be here shortly." She growls at Kona, voice reverberating against his chest, "And when she does, you will come to regret threatening his life."

Kona is a heaving mess, their wings twitching, eyes blinking quick at the new stump of their wrist. Lance looks to Krolia's profile, blinking away the thought that when she'd first come to his aid, he was delirious enough to think it was her son instead. In the curve of her jaw, the curl of her dark hair, the crescent shape sweeping up toward her cheek, Keith is all he can see.

Behind them, Lumria pulls away from the wall with a pained grunt. Two wings encircle them as they struggles to their feet, face now almost entirely covered with their own blood.

"Get him to the landing dock." Krolia orders, already pushing Lance away.

"Wait," He coughs, "Keith needs to-"

"He is a trained Blade and paladin." Krolia interrupts, not taking her eyes off of Kona for a second, "And he is my son. He will survive this. Though if you do not-" She finally glances down at him, something unreadable flashing in her gaze.

Before anything else can be said, she shoves Lance into Lumria's arms and rains fire on Kona, face set in stone cold concentration. He barely registers being picked up, hardly notices when the lights of the palace turn to the depth of night. As if a surge had knocked out a grid, the entire city is cast in the dark.

"Lumria." Lance blinks away dark spots, voice still breathy and scratchy, "You have to bring me back. I need to find them." He winces at a sharp pain at his temple, "I need to find Keith-"

Lumria sprints to the lift that will take them to the landing dock, their wings propelling them forward in small bursts. They wheeze, eyes blinking at the sting of blood.

"Lumria, _please-"_

Wind whips at them the moment they reach the platform, the strength of it making their clothes and hair go wild. Voices shout against a deep vibration and a strong rumble; a familiar sound that seems so far-fetched Lance thinks he must be imagining it. Without the fuel, which they just left for that very morning, the ship's engines can't possibly start.

"-humans, it's a natural occurrence when oxygen is unable to reach the brain!"

Pidge's voice is sharp and angry, coming to Lance the moment he's passed to another pair of strong arms. They let him down slowly, until he's safe enough to rest on his own. He braces his hands on the ground before wiping at a streak of blood on his cheek, the smell strong and bitter. When he looks up, he sees Hunk's face dirty and covered in dark soot.

He says something but it hardly registers against Lance's shock. His hands grab hold of Lance's shoulders before glancing over his shoulder, revealing Shiro standing tall. His feet are spread and tense; ready to withhold a brutal attack.

"What's going on?" Lance's voice echoes in his own ears and it makes him angry. He needs to be at full strength, not useless when they need him most. "Hunk, what happened?"

Hunk shakes his head, voice rising in a shout over the wind. "Too much, man!" He nods at something Pidge says, "But if we don't get outta here soon, we're gonna be-"

Suddenly, two huge booms resound throughout the sky. When a third enters the atmosphere the palace comes alight with fire, the kind that blinds and deafens all at once. Lance's stomach is in his throat and if not for the wind pushing against his nostrils, he knows he'd be retching.

"Keith is in there!" He shouts, hand reaching to grasp Hunk's sleeve. "We gotta go back!"

Hunk nods, looking both exhausted and close to tears. "We're trying to come up with a plan!"

Ahead, Shiro breaks into a run. He pushes past a group of Borakian's, their wings looking frayed and torn; some feathers hanging by very thin bone. But Lance can't focus on them. Instead, his eyes are glued to Allura. She stumbles onto the platform with Kroila at her arm, the woman limping and gritting her sharp teeth. She spots Lance but doesn't say anything, opting instead to allow Shiro a place on her other side.

They pass Lance with barely a word, Romelle and Coran quickly following suit. And then, just when Lance fears the worst, Thraine arrives. His eyes scan the platform before falling on Lance, tail practically dragging at his heels. Lance gets to his feet with more struggle than it's worth, one hand bracing on Hunk's arm before he gains his bearings enough to run.

When he slams into Thraine, the reunion is short lived.

"Keith." Lance breathes, leaning back to catch Thraine's attention, "Did you see him? Was he with you?"

Thraine won't meet his gaze.

"Hey." Lance reaches up to grab his face, ignoring the drying blood and snarl on his lips. He knows it's reflex, knows the Marmoran wouldn't truly snap at his skin. But his eyes are different; dark and clouded, almost feral against the raging light of the burning palace.

He looks, for the first time, as if he almost regrets whatever it is that he's done.

With a sharp intake of breath, Lance shoves him away with all of his strength. Thraine stumbles but he doesn't say a word, even when he's pushed to the side. At most, his tail wraps around Lance's waist with feeble strength.

Then, it slips away.

At Lance's back, Shiro's voice cuts through the wind and chaos. Footsteps follow close behind but Lance is faster. A faint glimmer of Red's presence flows into his legs, urging him on, shouting at him to _move_. He slides into the elevator and recalls the levers pulled when they'd first arrived. The memory seems so distant, almost unreachable.

All of his life, Lance has tried to take risks. It was a _risk_ choosing to apply to the Garrison, it was a _risk_ moving so far from home.

It was a risk chasing after Keith in that desert; following his lone form in the dark. It was a risk to fly into the cosmos, to always remain a few paces behind him, hand reaching endlessly with hope.

Looking at the alien tech now, he knows it's a risk to leave this platform.

 _Breathe._ He tells himself, _Just breathe._

 

★

 

 **Keith** :

 

 

The palace is burning.

Keith lays gasping in the throne room, his fingers holding fast to the wound on his abdomen. Red blood runs hot, his eyes trailing tears from the sting of smoke and ash. Beside him, the body of the Borakian leader is left sprawling. Their wings rest flat, mouth hanging open to show the blunt bloodstained edges of their teeth.

He squeezes his eyes shut, recalling the way Allura had brought the leader down, effectively immobilizing them. He and Thraine had followed the sounds of the fight and it was with desperation that Keith searched the destruction. He looked for brown hair and blue eyes, for a voice that he could find in any crowd.

"..with the intent to kill him!" Allura had been shouting, accepting Romelle's help in wrangling the Borakian with her whip.

It seems she brought her bayard even when the rest of them left theirs behind. Clever, as always.

Krolia had shifted toward Keith but he could see the way she stumbled, face having broken out in a feverish sweat. Blood seeped through the leg of her pants and it only grew by the second. She hadn't made it two steps closer before Kona began to shriek, voice piercing and full of pain.

When Keith pulled himself from his shock, his eyes fell on teeth rife with flesh. Thraine used his foot to kick the leader in the chest until they'd fallen in a heap of their own feathers. The bite on their neck was fatal, arteries lacerated; jugular demolished.

Everything moved so fast: Coran trailed behind Allura and Kroila, his mom trying to scream at Keith to hurry before the roof gave in. Romelle barely escaped being crushed and the impact effectively separated them and before Keith knew it, a piece of shrapnel sliced him clean beneath his ribs.

Thraine sprinted to his side but didn't stop him from falling. With interest, his eyes flitted from Keith's own before finding what brought him to his knees in the first place.

"You won't survive this." He stated, as if it were an obvious fact.

Then, with no warning, he reached down and yanked. The metal slid free with a squelch, eliciting a scream from the core of Keith. The blood began to spurt but Thraine grabbed hold of his hand and pressed it to the wound, holding it down with impressive strength. He helped ease Keith to the ground, tail wrapping around his chest before ultimately sliding away, making sure he didn't fall with unnecessary force. If not for the almost sly look on his face, the act could be seen as kind. 

Now, after the Marmoran has abandoned him, Keith struggles to hold on. He winces at the pulsing pain spreading along his body, at the way his fingertips begin to tingle from blood loss. The fire blazes hot and stifling around him, the flames licking and clambering toward the sky. Outside, the night shows no stars. For the first time in a long time he begins to fear that he is truly alone. That he won't make it out of here, that there will be no familiar face to ease him into that infinite sleep.

Through the smoke, there is a distant scream. Keith knows he's hallucinating, that chemicals have probably climbed their way inside of his mind. He blocks the voice out, wishing he could hear Lance laugh instead. He recalls their dance, the way he'd thrown his head back against the floating lights. The way he'd looked so carefree, as if he hadn't been fighting for years beside Keith in a seemingly endless war. How, for just that moment, he'd looked so happy.

Then, the scream comes again.

Keith's own name is echoing and pushing back against the inferno, over and over until he's trying to respond. His voice is weak, so quiet he fears this faux Lance won't hear him at all.

When hands find his body, he has to force himself to open his eyes.

Lance's face swims in his vision, blue eyes wide and bright beneath the thick of his lashes. Relief pours through Keith like rain, soaking every inch of his skin. He's lifted into Lance's arms and he can feel the boy shaking, his breath heaving, voice wavering when he begins to speak.

"Shit, Keith." He holds him closer, fingers gripping tight when Keith's head falls on his shoulder, "C'mon. _C'mon,_ you need to get up-"

"Can't." Keith manages to whisper, wishing he could say literally anything else.

Though he isn't prone to dramatics he wants to say something that will last. He wants to say: _Yo_ _u need to run. You have to make it out of this._

He wants to say:  _I can't wait to meet your family, to see your home-_

He wants to say: _I love you._

"Keep your eyes open." Lance orders, glancing away from Keith for only a moment. When he looks back, his cheeks are shining wet, something akin to shock making him hesitate. "We just gotta get back to the ship, right? Once we get on the ship we can get outta here, we can go anywhere. We can go back to the stars, Keith. Everything's gonna be fine-"

When Shiro shows up, Keith can hardly look at him.

Too soon, with a stuttering breath, everything goes dark. 

 

★

 

 

**Lance:**

 

 

"I love you."

The words are a tidal wave. They crash into Lance with a fury, like the rage of a storm and the absolute calm thereafter.

The moment Keith shuts his eyes, Lance screams. All training and experience with wartime death is thrown aside until he's hunched over Keith as if he could protect the boy from the flames. Lance will burn and burn and _burn_ if it means keeping him safe. If it means keeping him alive.

Shiro isn't gentle when he tries to take Keith from his arms. But the man looks just as ravaged, as if his world is crashing down all around him. Lance holds on for a moment longer but it's impossible to struggle against the hands coming around his waist, the three long fingers holding fast.

Another gust of fire erupts around them and it's so hot, Lance wonders if he's going to turn to ash. Looking at the way Keith's hand slips from Shiro's embrace, he finds that he doesn't even care. He could explode like the bomb that landed on the palace and it'd make no difference.

Wherever Keith has gone, it's as if Lance has already left with him.

Shiro gathers Keith into his arms, face returning to the blank slate of a soldier in the line of duty. He yells at Lance, ordering him to follow close behind but without Lumria's direction there's no doubt he would have remained in that very spot until the entire palace fell around him. They run through the room, jumping over burning debris with help from Lumria's strong wings. None of them look to Kona's body but Lumria tenses until they've made it through the final door, their wings shifting and shaking with bone-deep torment.

When they make it outside they all take a collective, deep breath. Above them the sky is erupting with a craft in the atmosphere, the telltale Galran warship looking like some sort of vengeful beast.

Lumria rushes Lance to the elevator and pushes him in with a grunt, making sure he's settled before taking a step back.

"What are you doing?" Shiro asks, already looking as if he's going to do whatever he can to drag the Borakian inside with them.

But Lumria has a remorseful, hard look in their eye. They stare at Keith with grief, hair and feathers dripping with blood from a wound on the back of their head.

"He was my _Yumriin_." Lumria says, "And I am responsible for the actions of my people."

With that, the Borakian slams a button on a sparking panel, wires hanging as if it had been yanked apart. The door slams shut seconds before the lift takes off. Lance watches Lumria run back toward the palace, though he can't even begin to understand why. He keeps his eyes glued to them until they disappear into the flames. When the entire palace blows, Lance somehow finds himself watching from the observation deck of the ship. It shakes the world, making structures crack and shatter and waves ripple, the light of their strange moon becoming shrouded by flung shrapnel. In just that flash, the palace is consumed. The Galran warship is too slow to see them leave the smoke infused atmosphere and it's almost unbelievable that they can make it to their lions at all.

Once they do, they don't look back.

It's strange the way time blurs. Like flashes of bright light, like the pressing of a fast forward button on some old console, Lance finds himself in one place before suddenly ending up in another: the cockpit of Red, the hangar bay, the kitchen and the lounge now covered in blood. He isn't sure if he says anything to Krolia when she launches herself after them or even to Coran, who is bleeding profusely from his arm.

Lance isn't sure of anything.

All he knows is that he can't stop. He follows at Shiro's back, eyes trained on Keith's profile. His head hangs a bit from Shiro's left arm and through the shock, Lance tries to remember if he's always been so pale. If his lips were always so dry.

When they burst into the med bay, Allura is waiting. She takes one look at Keith before lurching forward, quickly taking him from Shiro's arms. Laying him down on a cold slab of metal seems cruel, even if he can't feel the sting. But just one look at his limp body has Lance moving, his breath catching in his throat over and over and over-

"Lance, maybe you should-"

"I'm not going anywhere." He snaps, ignoring the way Allura watches him cross over.

When he's close enough, he finally reaches forward and grabs hold of Keith's hand.

"Cold." He whispers, "He's _cold_ , Shiro. He's not supposed- why is he so fucking cold? Allura you have to..to do something before-"

Shiro and Allura share a look before they finally move. With no need for instruction, Shiro stands behind Keith and holds his shoulders to the table, temple pulsing with his ravaged heartbeat. At a glance, Lance notices the way his skin is stained in a dim shimmering gold. The way blood is quickly drying on his hands and his neck; the way he suddenly meets Lance's eyes. He nods, just once, before returning his attention to Keith.

"This is," Allura gulps and takes a deep breath, eyes already flickering with that ancient Altean magic, "this won't be easy. Unlike you, Shiro, his consciousness isn't connected to a lion."

"Try." Shiro urges, voice ranging in too many emotions to count. "Just try."

Lance can't say a word. Though he knows death, if only for a brief moment, there's no doubt in his mind that Keith can come back from it. If anyone can, it's him. Through his panic and his fear, through the pain slicing into his very soul, Lance finds a flicker of warmth and he holds on tight. Red is a constant hum, vibrating inside of him with a whisper.

_Do not give up._

Allura's eyes begin to glow though not like the time she brought Shiro back and managed to revive Lance. It's a flicker and a pulse, flashing pure as starlight before the combustion of lava and ember and ash. With a gasp, she places her hands on Keith's chest before slipping them to the wound on his abdomen.

Blood flows slower now and Lance tries desperately to focus on anything other than the frigidity of Keith's skin. Her hands become coated in the dark color but she just presses harder, shoulders rising and falling before her eyes finally slip shut. The torn flesh around Keith's wound glows a faint pink and Lance can see a traveling light, like lightning flashing from cloud to cloud. It roams from the deep gash to his ribs, climbing all the way to the chambers of his heart. It pulses in slow blinks, illuminating the expanse of his chest. 

The room is silent.

Time has finally begun to slow yet what happens next is anything but. It's too fast, too sudden; too _much._

With a shudder running the length of Lance's body and the blur of his stinging vision, he notices that the glowing light has begun to fade. 

He notices that Keith has stopped breathing. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for any mistakes, I'm really tired but I wanted to get this up for everyone. Also, super sorry for the long wait!!! Work is taking up so much of my time and all I've wanted to do is write but I end up falling asleep before just getting back up to work :\ It really sucks.
> 
> I promise this story has a happy Klance ending. Bear with me. The next chapter will have a bit of a time jump but nothing drastic. Sorry if there were too many POVs happening, it just kinda ended up that way?? :'\ I'm not very confident in this chapter but I really hope you liked it. I plan for the next chapter to slow down and really flesh out some things.
> 
> Thank you for being patient <3 The next update will be a bit slow but it will be up ASAP.


	13. Chapter 13

 

* * *

 

 

_Yet what I can give him, give my heart._

_-Christina Rossetti_

 

* * *

 

 

 

The landscape is bleak.

There is no light here and yet Keith is breathing; he is alive and his heart is beating in rapid rhythm, taking to his chest like birds and shooting stars.

The landscape is bleak and Keith knows none of this is real.

_Wake up._ He tells himself, _Wake up, wake up, wake up-_

 

_******** _

 

“Wake up.” Lance whispers, head held in his hands.

His eyes are dried from days of tears, the burn of them leaving sticky trails along his cheeks. He sits beside Keith with a crumbling heart, the hope he’d always held on to giving way to a barren, bleak feeling in the pit of his gut.

The hum of the ship makes his ears ring but he’s long since refused the offer of Pidge’s old headphones or Hunk’s MP3. All he needs is the sound of Keith’s breathing. All he needs is the reminder that after he had pushed Keith’s chest to cracking, fingers laced with the intent to pump his heart to life, it had worked. The scene plays in his mind on repeat: Shiro’s determined expression, Allura’s eyes glowing brighter and brighter, Krolia holding tight to Keith’s hand, Lance’s desperate push of air into his bloody mouth. Lance had breathed into him with all that he had, until his own chest was left aching.

“Hey.”

The voice shocks Lance from his numb stare and he turns to Shiro with slow blinks, fatigue weighing heavy on his mind.

“Hi.” Lance whispers, voice breaking. He tries to clear his throat but it’s practically impossible.

Shiro sinks to the floor and crosses his legs, eyes surrounded by dark circles. Not that long ago Krolia had stood silently by Keith’s bedside, staring at her son as if she could will him to life. Now that she’s gone and Lance has been alone for hours, he welcomes Shiro’s presence.

“It doesn’t make sense.” Lance says, knowing the conversation is a dead end. But if he doesn’t say something and Shiro respects his silence, he’s scared he’ll end up screaming.

“I know.” Shiro nods and massages his shoulder, wincing at the strain of muscle. “But people, they aren’t just good or bad. They grow desperate. They make the wrong choices-”

Lance scoffs, knowing his words hold more meaning than just the betrayal of the Borakians. But Lance ignores the flash of Thraine in his mind, instead opting to say, “They wanted to kill us.”

“Not all of them.”

The words are hefty and annoying and _true_. Lance dips his head and feels his hair fall into his eyes, the strands uncharacteristically dry. He thinks of Lumria, of their determination to run back into the palace and the explosions thereafter.

He thinks of Lumria and he mourns.

“Have you slept?” Shiro asks, voice quiet and gentle.

Lance just shrugs.

“You should sleep. I’ll wake you if anything changes.” Shiro glances at Keith but he can’t look at him long. As if it pains him too much, he simply returns his attention to Lance, thick brows furrowed above his eyes. “If he wakes you’ll be one of the first to know.”

Lance debates arguing. He wants nothing more than to stay rooted to this seat like a tree, his feet stuck to the ground with no chance of moving. But with each blink he feels his headache worsen and his eyes burn and burn, a testament to his belief that maybe, possibly, Keith would wake up within the next minute. Or the next. Or the next-

“Yeah.” He sighs and gets to his feet before he allows himself to do the opposite. “You’re uh. You’re right.”

Shiro doesn’t say anything else as Lance passes through the door behind him. Like some kind of ghost, he walks through the halls on autopilot, not sure where he’s going but knowing it’s the right way. It’s been days since he’s eaten with the others or pet Kosmo or listened to his music. It’s been days since he’s done anything but blink against the bright lights of the med bay.

“Lance.”

The voice is a grate of pain at his back. Lance sucks in a quick breath and walks faster, ignoring the sound of a tail brushing against the ground. It’s immature, totally and completely ridiculous that he’s running from Thraine like this.

And yet, he doesn’t care.

The Marmoran doesn’t follow him.

When Lance was a child, his Momma told him that forgiveness is never required to move on. That people will hurt you and it’s okay to feel pain; to hold anger in your heart so long as it’s a slow tide, one that will someday give way and crash with froth on the shore.

_That pain is natural, baby_. She’d say to him in the dark, when his tears were fresh and free falling. _You feel it. You feel it and you feel it until you realize you don’t need it anymore. Then you let it go._

Lance wishes she were here now.

Instead, all he has is this.

The room is cold when he enters. It is cold and empty and he feels utterly alone. With a slow release of his breath he sinks into Keith’s bed, uncaring that it might be rude. All he can do is push his face into the pillow and grip tight to the blankets, squeezing his eyes shut in hopes that he’ll fall into a deep sleep.

But like always, sleep is an evasive monster.

He opens his eyes and looks around, recognizing the little signs that Keith wanted to make this room a home. Just as much as the rest of them, he always longed for that. Still, the room isn’t as decorative as Lance’s. With a trailing of his fingers over the mattress, Lance sits up and blinks at the thoughts forming in his head. They’re stupid and he’s being ridiculous but with the sleep deprivation and the desperation and the pain, he can’t help but rise from the bed with intent.

Dragging his belongings into Keith’s room takes longer than he thought it would. But he welcomes the struggle and he lets out a laugh when he trips over his own chest of clothes, hands stopping him from falling face-first onto the cold floor. If anyone sees him hauling all of his blankets and pillows and video games down the halls they don’t say anything. They let him carry on and he silently thanks them for it, uncaring if he looks crazed.

He doesn’t stop until the door is shut and he’s sitting in the floor with a light sheen of sweat on his temples, chest rising and falling. Looking around, the room looks much smaller.

“What am I doing?” He whispers, wondering if perhaps he _is_ going a bit mad.

But suddenly, with absolutely no warning, warmth rushes into him. It’s the kind that transcends the stars and wraps him up entirely until all else fades away. It’s rare that Red talks to him like this but he welcomes it and holds tight. Like a lifeline, like a lighthouse or buoy at sea, he shuts his eyes and listens to the lion in the only way he knows how. He hears Keith's last words to him like a record needle caught on a scratch, repeating endlessly: _I love you._

Hey lays down in the midst of his belongings and before he knows it, he’s fast asleep.

 

* * *

 

“..you alright?”

Lance blinks awake, neck aching from where he rests on the floor. His skin is cold and his stomach growling, the orange lights of the room practically blinding him from the ceiling. Soon, however, a figure blocks it completely.

Allura stares down at him with worry, her hair pulled away from her shoulders but still managing to frame her face with pretty, thick curls.

“Lance, are you alright?” She asks again.

He clears his throat and sits up, vision spinning. He couldn’t have been asleep long and yet he feels more rested than he has in a long, long time. Bringing a palm to his forehead he presses down into the skin, feeling only a vague hint a headache.

“Lance?”

With a grunt, he finally replies. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

She hums and squats in front of him, eyes boring into his own. “No you aren’t.”

And just like that, she’s pulling him away from the mess he’d created. She walks him to the bed and waits for him to sit before following suit, her hand never leaving his.

“What have you done?” She asks, staring wide-eyed at the items now littering Keith’s room.

Lance’s lips twitch, humor inching through the numb wall he’s placed around himself. “I’m…not sure, really.”

Allura looks at him with a bemused expression, “He’s going to throw a fit.”

“I know.” Lance dips his head and finally smirks, if only a little bit, at the thought. “But I couldn’t help myself. I don’t know why.”

They’re quiet for a moment and Lance holds tight to her fingers, feeling the warmth between his own. Not that long ago, he thought he'd never be able to get over her. Who could? Even now, as he longs for the boy across the ship, he finds solace and sanctuary beside her. Suddenly, he can’t help himself from leaning his head against her shoulder.

She sighs, “After Shiro was attacked, I felt it here.” She lifts a hand and places it on her chest, “And even though you and I don’t have that connection, I feel you now.”

Lance shuts his eyes, “What if,” He licks his lips, trying to keep the nausea from rolling in his stomach, “what if we reach Earth and he isn’t awake?”

“He will be.”

At this, Lance lifts his head. He looks to her and finds light: through her eyes, in her soft smile, all around her.

He wants to believe her.

“I was so stupid.” He winces, “About _everything_. From the beginning, I was drawn to him. Like a moth to a flame or..or _gravity_. And I pushed it away until I could bear it and now-” He shakes and feels a sob threaten to tear from his chest.

“Now you fear you can’t bear this.” She completes his sentence and holds tighter to his hand.

His silence is a large enough answer.

“When I met you both, I thought you’d never be friends.” Allura admits, voice holding mirth. “You seemed to hate each other. But the more I watched you, the more I saw the way you both interacted and continued to orbit each other. I saw the truth. I saw the love that could blossom there, if only you would allow it.”

“None of it matters now.” Lance hates his pessimism, absolutely loathes the way he can’t grab hold of the aspiration he used to have in the most difficult times. “I made too many mistakes. Waited too long, tried to move on with the wrong person.”

Allura hums, “What Thraine did…it was abhorrent.” Anger laces her voice and Lance can hear how protective, and heartbroken, she is. “Leaving him to die can hardly be forgiven so easily. But if anyone can face this, it’s you.”

She nudges him with her shoulder, urging him to act without saying it outright. They fall back into silence, though this time he doesn’t feel so lost. He takes deep breaths and prepares himself for the inevitable.

Even if he’d rather jump into open space without oxygen, he knows it’s time.

 

* * *

 

Thraine is in the Hangar bay when Lance finds him. His knees are pulled to his chest and his ears are drooping, tail limp against the metallic floor. In the dim orange light he appears sickly.

The moment Lance steps into the room, he looks up.

They stare at each other and Lance tries to feel nothing. He wishes he were a blank slate, that they’d never met and he was simply passing by to get to Red. But there’s no denying the tug in his chest and the way he still wants to fall into the Marmoran’s arms if only for the lingering familiarity.

In the end, he stands across from Thraine with crossed arms. His nails are biting into his palms, leaving painful crescents in the flesh.

“Lance.” Thraine starts before Lance cuts him off.

“You don’t even sound sorry.”

The Marmoran looks contemplative, his large eyes roaming all over Lance’s face. When he finally speaks again, his voice has grown quiet. “I’m not.”

Lance flinches, “You fucking-”

“I’m not sorry for what I did.” Thraine continues, “But I am sorry that my actions have hurt you.”

In a flash, Lance lashes out. He slams his fist into Thraine’s face, horror washing over him seconds after he did it. But when he stands back, huffing with betrayal and shock and all of the emotions that have been kept locked away, he knows that he could never apologize for it. Thraine keeps his eyes to the ground and Lance can’t take his eyes off of _him_ , fist clenching at his side to keep from throwing another punch. He fears that if he does he’ll never stop.

“You left him to burn.” Lance says, voice shaking. When Thraine finally looks up at him, Lance continues. “He’s my best friend. My… _everything_.” The words are a confession that should have been said years ago. They’re raw and he feels ashamed for saying them now, for saying them _here_. “You left him there hoping he would die and the only reason you aren't gone, the only reason his mom hasn't put a sword through your chest, is because we can't risk a longer delay by waiting for another Blade to take your place.”

“I can’t make excuses for my reasons.” Thraine says, voice a toneless drone. “I can’t take anything back.”

“I know.” Lance wilts, feeling the fight falling away from him. Just like that, he finds that he can't do anything but end this fast. To get away. “But what we were, everything we had together, it’s gone. It won’t be coming back.”

Thraine nods like he understands. Lance doesn’t know for sure that he does. Looking at the Marmoran now, he isn’t sure of anything. Just that his heart is broken and everything is a mess, ever since he left Earth and put on his armor, nothing has been normal or safe or right.

Nothing but Keith.

“I know you have to finish your mission.” Lance raises his head and holds strong,  "Do what you have to do, none of us will stop you but just…just stay away from me. And when he wakes, you better stay the _fuck_ away from Keith.”

When Thraine moves as if to reach out to him, Lance takes a step back. He shakes his head and swallows a bout of unreasonable guilt.

“Maybe you’ll find someone in the future.” Lance says, trying to keep civility. He turns away and heads for the door, heart pounding painfully in his chest. “But it won’t be me.”

 

* * *

 

Lance should have known this wouldn’t turn out how he planned for it to. In the movies, in books and daydreams and humankind’s romantic idealizations, there is always the awakening that transcends the torment. There is birth and fate, maybe a chance meeting and the crossing of paths on the platform of train stations.

But Lance isn’t on Earth and he isn’t there when Keith wakes.

He doesn’t know this at first, of course. All he knows is the smell of Keith’s bed and his own dreamless state, his hand curled beneath his cheek and the sounds of the ship surrounding him.

He doesn't even hear the door slide open.

 

* * *

 

 

**Keith:**

 

  
Waking to the sight of his mom isn’t something Keith expected after certain death. But the moment he sees her he feels as if he is five years old and she is fleeting; a memory that is on the cusp of leaving orbit. He sits up fast, gasping at the burst of pain in his abdomen and within his chest yet totally uncaring that it means something is wrong.

All he knows is the strength of her arms as they wrap around him tight.

“You scared the shit out of me.” She says, her large hand cupping the back of his bandaged head.

He lets out a breathy laugh and squeezes his eyes shut at the memories threatening to drag him back into the dark.

“Sorry.” He mumbles.

Krolia makes a sound close to a purr, her fingers not lessening their hold until they both realize someone else is in the room.

When Keith looks up, his eyes swell with new tears.

Shiro looks devastated. He stares at Keith before rushing forward, folding him into his arms with even more strength than Krolia.

“You big,” Keith coughs, “baby.”

Pulling back, Shiro shakes his head and ruffles Keith’s hair, the touch remaining gentle and careful. “I thought you were-” He clears his throat and tries again, “It's been weeks and you looked _gone_.”

Keith shrugs but he knows Shiro can see right through him. Regardless of his cool exterior, Keith is scared. Even now, after he's woken to brand new light, he is completely unsure of what has happened since he's been unconscious. 

“But I’m not gone.” He winces and rubs at his temple, “What have I missed?”

Shiro shakes his head. “Hunk and Pidge were ready to build you a whole new body. And your mom,” He tries to hide his smirk, “She was ready to kill.”

Keith doesn't need to ask why. He sees a flash of the fire and Lumria and, not long after, _Thraine._

But he doesn’t want to think of him now.

Instead, he moves to stand. He ignores his mom’s disapproving look and pushes away Shiro’s hand, feeling a new fire burning at his heels. It’s one that he’s tired of putting out, that he knows really will be the end of him if he doesn’t get out of this damn bed-

“Keith.” Krolia starts.

He shakes his head and lets his bare feet touch the ground. With a shaky breath, he simply asks, “Where is he?”

 

* * *

 

 

**Lance:**

 

 

Waking to warmth pressed against his back shouldn’t be as comforting as it is.

Lance groans and rolls over, pushing his head into something both hard and soft all at once. He takes a deep breath and trails his hand over the foreign object, fully expecting it to give way to a pile of blankets or another pillow.

Instead, there is breath brushing against his hair.  

With a startled gasp, Lance sits up with wide eyes. He pushes away from the warmth and reaches for something, _anything_ , that can be used as a weapon. But when his brain finally catches up with his instincts, he fears he’ll simply fall from the bed in shock.

Keith is sleeping, his cheeks pale and his hair a dark splash of color on the pillow beneath his head. Like a dream come to life, Lance fears he’ll disappear in a blink.

“Keith?” He whispers, wondering if maybe they’d been sent to some different reality. If perhaps the ship had gone through some wack wormhole while he slept.

The boy shifts, his head turning to show the length of his pale neck. Lance gulps and reaches a hand out, hovering above the pulse point beneath his ear. If this is a dream, Lance wants to make sure it at least feels real.

When his fingers find Keith’s skin, everything changes.

In a flash, Keith’s eyes are open and Lance’s wrist is held gently in his grasp. Their eyes meet, blue on grey on fire.

“You’re real, right?” Lance asks.

When Keith laughs the sound is both shocked and amused and so like him that Lance almost falls out of the bed anyway. Instead, Keith is his tether. Like gravity, Lance couldn't get away from him even if he tried.

“Of course I’m real.”

Keith's voice is a bit raspy and Lance can see a crease between his brows, giving away the pain he must still feel in his body. Beneath his shirt Lance can see the hint of a burn scar, the flesh smooth but viciously warped. Keith lets go of his wrist and Lance pulls away, making sure he doesn’t reach out again without permission.

“Right.” Lance gulps, “Don’t know why I said that. I mean, this could still be a dream or something but you do seem real, yanno? Unless I was right and we went through some weird-”

“Lance.” Keith sits up, grimacing. He gets close and rolls his eyes, “I’m real. I woke up a few hours ago.”

Lance tries to ignore the sting of that. He tries to keep from agonizing over the fact that he wasn't there.

“I’m sorry.” He whispers.

Keith looks confused, “For what?”

“For everything.” Lance rushes, “For keeping you at a distance and for ignoring _this_.” He motions between them, watching as Keith’s face finally flushes a pale crimson. “I’m sorry for what happened and for Lumria and for almost letting you fucking die.”

“None of that was your fault.”

“No, but I'm still a soldier. I could have done _something,_ maybe figured out what was going on..” Lance takes a deep breath, “I could have told you the truth sooner.”

Silence falls. It’s tense but still strangely comfortable and Lance can feel Red’s presence in a flicker. Like a push at his back, urging him to continue.

“I think I’ve loved you for a long time.” His voice breaks.

He tries to look away from Keith but it’s impossible when he’s staring at Lance like that. His face is full of wonder and such soft adoration that it threatens to take Lance’s breath away. And then he is falling back onto the bed with a huff, eyes going wide at the sight of Keith above him.

There are no words for the soft press of lips against Lance’s own. Keith has always acted on impulse but for once Lance is grateful for it. His eyes shut with a flutter of his lashes and his hands trail up and up and up- Keith hisses with pain and Lance pushes himself back into the mattress, apologies already flying from his lips. 

“Don’t worry about it.” Keith says, voice deep. It sends pleasant shivers running the length of Lance’s spine. “Just keep kissing me. Don’t stop.”

With a timid smile, Lance places his palm on the nape of Keith’s neck and pulls him down. They collide with relief, their bodies shaking from the rush of finally being able to touch each other like this, from _finally_  being able to breathe each other in.

“You almost died.” Lance says when they separate, knowing it’s the worst time to bring it up. But now that Keith is here, now that he’s alive and pressing into Lance like this, he fears it won’t last. “And now you’re here with me. I’ve wanted this for so long-”

Keith quickly presses his lips onto Lance’s, “I love you.”

The words barely register. But when they do, Lance can’t help but try to sit up fast. Their heads knock together and suddenly Lance is apologizing over and over, his fingers brushing against Keith’s forehead in worry.

Then they’re laughing.

It’s a bit delirious but neither of them care. They’re overwhelmed by the presence of the other yet they still can’t get enough. Lance pushes his hands through Keith’s thick hair and places soft kisses on his face, lips trailing over every inch of skin that he can.

“Is this alright? Are we-”

“Yes.” Lance whispers, newfound tears quickly wetting his lashes. “God, Keith. Yes.”

Later, after Keith has gone back to sleep and Lance lets his fingers slow their descent along his scalp, sleep is a welcome thing. He burrows close to Keith and though he still feels remnants of pain, of heartache and the shock of everything that has happened, he doesn’t really regret anything, either.

Lance simply shuts his eyes and finally, for the first time in a long time, feels his hope return.

 

* * *

 

 

"Everyone to the observation deck!"

Lance shoots up from the pillows, his lips a bit bruised and his hair wild atop his head. Beside him, Keith looks dazed. He stares up at Lance as if they didn't just hear Allura's order, as if they have all the time in the universe to simply lay there wrapped around each other. It's been months since Keith almost left Lance's side for good and he's only just begun to truly heal. 

Leaning over, Lance places a soft kiss on Keith's scarred chest, his mouth pressing into the warps and raised skin. "Let's go." He says. 

They dress together and though Lance never really wants to put his paladin armor on again, he knows it's necessary. He buckles his suit around his waist and watches Keith pull his hair into a bun on the nape of his neck, wishing more than anything that the boy could just stay behind in bed. Lance would battle anyone, _anything_ , so long as Keith doesn't have to again. 

When they enter the room, Lance expects warships and explosions. He expects anything but this. 

Holding Keith's hand, he walks up to the window and stares wide eyed at the sight displayed in the distance. 

There, spinning and waiting, is a pale blue planet. 

It's Earth. 

It's home. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't want the angst in this chapter to drag on forever so sorry if it feels a bit rushed? :\ 
> 
> Anyway, i'm also sorry for the extra long wait, the final season and work and the holidays almost killed me lol. Thank you to everyone who is sticking around and I hope you stay until the very end!


	14. Chapter 14

 

* * *

  

_"Breathe your life into me."_

 

* * *

 

 

Winter on Earth has always been a quiet, somber thing. It curls along the skin, brushes against the heart and threatens to freeze it lest it beat fast and true. Lance feels the heat of his blood in his veins as he runs along the old road of his childhood, where pastures give way to the froth of the crashing sea. His cheeks are red and his eyes wet, both from wind and from emotion, the likes of which remain as strong as every hurricane and blizzard and dust storm in the world.

There is strength in these feelings. It's taken him a long time to find that strength, to recognize it and hold it close, to cradle it like a child and feel it at his fingertips, ready to spread full wings. Yet, while he recognizes these torrents inside of him, that doesn't necessarily mean he understands them completely.

He figures he never really will. When they finally returned to earth it was summer and it was hot and he felt the sand beneath his feet with a gasp, hand holding tight to Keith's before slipping free. Now, as the clouds shimmer grey, he recalls late night conversations with his boyfriend and he finds forgiveness a constant flow between them.

 _I sometimes think about him._  Lance admitted in their bed, nerves turning his skin almost waxen. _I just wonder how he's doing. If he's alone or if he's found a friend._

And Keith...he just held Lance close. It was he who was left for dead and yet his fingers ran gentle on Lance's spine, his breath was soft in the waves of his hair.

 _You're really into him._ His sister said a few days after they'd arrived. 

_It's that obvious, huh?_

Lance had sobbed minutes later, knowing that he'd loved Thraine too. For all that happened, he loved him like he loves everyone: with every fiber and atom of his being. But God, Lance has _always_ loved Keith. On a whole different level he's been struck by the boy, completely enraptured and moonstruck. 

He slows his run to a walk as dark birds fly across the sky, the sparse few that refuse to go somewhere warm for winter. As a child he could only yearn for golden days when all of summer began to blend together. Now, he takes a deep breath and lets the crisp air wash him clean. His thighs ache and his lungs burn but he feels light as he marches to the small house on the corner of the street. Blue shutters are chipped and the flower boxes are void of petals. Beneath the old tree in the front yard there is a tire swing, a rounded dog house, a pebbled path leading to a rusty red mailbox. He smiles and reminds himself to fix that up later, when he's not so close to frostbite.

The moment he steps onto the porch the boards creak, eliciting a chorus of barks from inside. Two dogs wait for him behind the screen and he accepts their assault the moment he breaches the foyer, where family pictures are strung along the wall. Warmth wafts to him, bringing with it smells of home: cocoa and baked meat, the air freshener his mom goes overboard with, cut citrus and freshly washed clothes. He lets the door shut behind him with a click, hearing voices from the TV in the living room and a distant song from a radio, Spanish floating through an open doorway. Slipping off his shoes and his coat, he sniffs and wanders into the kitchen, expecting his mom or his sisters.

Keith never fails to make his stomach flutter. Even in thick wooly socks and an over sized sweater, the colors ranging on the ugly side, Lance can't help but lean against the door sill and stare. His dark hair is pulled into a low bun, flyaway strands hanging around his face and along his neck. From his position, Lance can spot a flush on his cheeks, probably from standing over the heat of the gas stove.

"Quit staring."

Lance grins and saunters further into the kitchen, fingers settling on Keith the moment he's close enough. He tells himself it's not to prove that he's real, that he's alive and okay. He tells himself it's because the boy is always so accepting of his affections; as if starved for Lance's touch.

"I wasn't staring." Lance lies, "I was wondering why my mom would leave you alone in the kitchen with an open fire."

"Funny." Keith deadpans, though when he looks up there is light in his eyes. Humor. Warmth. "She asked me stir the soup, actually."

Lance presses a kiss to his cheek, letting his lips linger even when Keith hisses at the cold of them.

"You're gonna get sick." Keith finally lets the spoon rest on the stove top and turns, running a palm along the side of Lance's neck.

He leans in but they don't kiss. Lance has learned to appreciate the way Keith crowds his space, seemingly content with just their foreheads touching. Lance's hands fall to Keith's waist and they simply stand there, eyes shut as the food bubbles and boils.

"I can't get sick." Lance says eventually, pulling back to shoot him a smug look. "Tomorrow is Christmas."

"Yeah, it'll be a miracle if you wake up without a stuffy nose."

Lance grins, "You could call it a-"

Keith groans, "Don't even-"

"- _Christmas_ miracle."

 

★

 

Waking to the voices of those he loves is enough for Keith to be content and perfectly happy. There is no need for presents, no need for candies and bubbly drinks and lights that twinkle and shine. All he needs is this: Shiro laughing at something Allura says, Pidge bickering with Lance's younger nephew and Hunk interjecting with peace, Coran and Romelle and Krolia and _him_.

Always him.

Keith turns in the warm bed and blinks at the image of Lance, all brown skin and freckles, scars and a bit of stubble and the way his collarbones dip against his chest. Keith snuggles closer and feels the solid form of the boy he loves and he can hardly believe it. He wonders if that will ever go away- his dumbfounded wonder at how he ended up like this.

Not so long ago, he'd been hopeless in his yearning. Not so long ago, he'd been dead.

Now he reaches out with gentle fingers to brush at Lance's cheek, feeling the heat of his skin and the bumps that rise beneath his touch.

Blue eyes open and Keith is left speechless, breath stolen from his lungs, almost waxing poetic at the way Lance's lips begin to turn up in a slow smile.

"It's Christmas." He whispers, sounding almost giddy like a child.

"It is." Keith gulps, "And you don't sound sick."

Lance scoffs and Keith leans close to press a small kiss on his nose, knowing he should probably brush his teeth but also not really giving a shit when Lance is looking at him like _that_.

"You're kinda making it hard to get out of bed." Lance sighs.

"Then lets stay in bed."

"We can't." Lance grimaces, "If we don't make an appearance soon my entire family is gonna barge in here and drag us out by our toes."

Keith would say something like: they wouldn't. But he knows, just from staying with them for the last few months, that they most definitely would. So, with a dramatic stretch and a warning for Lance to not even think about tickling him, he gets out of the damn bed. They dress fast and Keith breathes in the clean clothes, watching as Lance dons a ridiculous Santa hat.

"The kids always ask to wear my hat." Lance straightens it in the mirror on the wall, "A few years ago I told them that Santa gave it to me once and only he can give me permission to give it away."

Keith rolls his eyes, but even he knows there is a fierce fondness on his face. Lance meets his eye in the mirror, dorky and sweet and goofy as hell.

"Are you still nervous?" He asks, recalling their conversation from last night.

They'd sat up for hours, eating cookies and drinking his moms famous cocoa and Keith had voiced his feelings, a thing that he's growing more and more comfortable with. It's a slow process but it's a process all the same and now he fears he'll never be able to stop vomiting words to match what's going on inside of him.

"I've never celebrated holidays like this." Keith says, "It's just different, that's all."

Lance turns and his eyes travel along Keith's face, reading him in that special way that he does. It's like he can see into the core of Keith, all the way to his heart.

"I'm glad you're celebrating it with me this year." Lance pushes the fluffy hat back onto his head, trying to ignore the fact that it's obviously grown too small. "I know you've been alone since your dad died but I want you to look around today and see him here, with us, in the little things."

Keith gulps, eyes blurring with tears. He blinks them away and nods, just once, before Lance reaches to clasp their fingers tight.

 

★

 

Morning gives way to afternoon and Keith eats way too much food, opens more presents than he ever has in his life, and smiles until his jaw aches. The fireplace that Lance swore hadn't been used since he was ten is lit, the flames dancing against the influx of voices and cheesy music. And Keith, through it all, finds his dad in the little things. His mom glances at him from time to time but otherwise finds herself looking to the tree, watching the lights blink against silver tinsel. In her gaze, there is longing and their is mourning and their is hope. He hears his dad in boisterous laughter and in the warmth of the fire, the heat settling on Keith's back as he sits on the wrapper-strewn floor.

The Paladins and Alteans mingle with Lance's family and the room is just so  _full_ -

Keith shuts his eyes and takes a deep, deep breath. When he opens them, Lance is looking at him, beckoning him to follow him outside. Keith kind of dreads the wintry weather but groans as he stands anyway, shuffling his way around the room until he can escape. He bundles up and accepts a hat from Lance, the material pushing down the thick of his hair against his scalp. It covers his ears and doesn't match his thick red gloves, which are a size too big.

When they walk outside they head to the tire swing in the front yard and Lance motions for Keith to climb on, watching as he bats away clumps of snow. The air is silent and almost completely still, nothing moving other than the flutter of a scarlet cardinal by the mailbox.

"Is there a reason you dragged me out here?" Keith asks, letting Lance turn the tire until the rope is pulled taut. When he releases it, Keith spins in slow circles.

"Nope." Lance shrugs, "Just thought you'd like to get some air."

They switch from time to time, one of them sitting on the tire while the other pushes, letting their feet brush the ground. Lance's laugh is breathy and Keith spins him until he swears he'll vomit, which isn't really the reason Keith ultimately stops. He waits until Lance looks up at him, blue eyes brighter in the winter sun.

"What is it?" Lance asks through the last of his giggles.

Keith reaches into the pocket of his jacket, fingers clasping around an ornate box. When he brings it between them it rests in the center of his palm, a small clasp keeping the gift inside.

"I've held onto this for a long time." Keith licks his lips, suddenly feeling nervous. "I'm not sure you'll even like it or remember it, but I figured I should give it to you anyway."

Lance raises a brow, cheeks flushed a bit darker than they were before. "A long time, huh? Is this like, your proposal or something?"

"What?" Keith's eyes go wide. "No way. I mean, not that I wouldn't want to- which, only if you ever felt like, you know-"

"Calm down, baby." Lance stands and smiles, "I was just kidding."

When he reaches for the box, Keith's heart is in his throat. It's not a ring, not yet. But it's still a statement, a clue into just how long Keith has physically ached and longed for the boy standing in front of him.

Lance fiddles with the clasp, playful enough to drag the moment out. But when he opens it he quickly looks back to Keith in shock. His eyes are wide, emotion ravaging the plains of his face.

"Keith." His voice breaks, "This is...I remember this. Of  _course_  I remember this."

The bracelet is as beautiful as it was the day Keith bought it, sneaking the purchase as Lance searched for alien candy on the planet of Fyix.

"How did you know I wanted this?" Lance asks, allowing Keith to clasp it against the soft skin on his wrist.

"I saw you." Keith admits, "Well, I was watching you. Which sounds weird now that I said it out loud. But I promise it was an accident. One second I was looking at some random stuff and then I looked up and there you were, staring at this bracelet and I just...I wanted to get it for you. But I never found the time or the opportunity to actually give it to you."

Lance runs a finger against the aqua stones, watching as they shimmer faintly in the sun, not saying a word. But in his silence there is joy and that is all Keith has ever really wanted.

 

★

 

"I love you."

The words are a testament, a promise settled between them like a connected red string tethering them together. Lance's hand is settled on Keith's hip, thumb brushing against the remnants of burned flesh; the beginnings of the injury that almost took him away.

"I love you too." Keith replies.

Outside, snow falls in slow drifts. Wind howls like a wailing thing but there is soft music playing, Lance sometimes singing along, sometimes simply humming.

"Do you think we'll ever actually, you know?" Lance asks, glancing at the dark outside.

"Go back to space?" Keith raises a brow, "Yeah. There's a war to finish winning."

Lance snorts a laugh, "No, not that. I know that." He inches closer, "I meant do you think we'll ever actually get married."

 _"Oh."_ Keith pulls back, eyes flitting over Lance's face.

Lance winces and draws into himself just a bit, just enough for Keith to notice.

Almost instantly, Keith continues, "I want to. If you want to? Like if you're into that. I always kinda thought weddings were boring but now it's different. Everything's different."

Lance finds his rambling endearing. "I do." He says, saving Keith from saying more. "Want to get married, I mean."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Lance nods, "Someday."

Keith smiles then, a beautiful thing that used to be rare: that now keeps Lance afloat most days. 

In space, you never really know what to expect.

Lance could never have been prepared for any of this: for first love and a broken heart, for newfound love and healing wounds. Soon they'll return to the front lines and he'll be caught in the midst of horrific reality, never knowing if the next day is his last. But for now he pushes these thoughts far away. Tonight snow is falling outside and the fire is embers in the living room, where his friends are spread out on the floor with full bellies. His family is sleeping all around and his biggest crush, his best friend and his fiercest love, is growing drowsy in his bed. He settles into Keith and here it is warm, safe; a sanctuary in an embrace.

It's all he needs.

It's all he'll  _ever_  need. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short, sweet, simple end. I hope it was okay and that you enjoyed this story. ♡

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on tumblr: [starshinebf](https://starshinebf.tumblr.com/)


End file.
